The Winding Road
by Phantom Muse
Summary: Sequel to Someone Like Me. Erik and Kiera finally marry, though the Daroga's death leaves them uncertain of their future. Christine has taken to sending threats to the couple, leaving them afraid for their lives...and the new addition. Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

_**Okay, yens, this is the sequel to Someone Like Me. I hope you all enjoy this one as much as you liked the other. If you have not read the first one...you will not understand this one fully until you have read it. Read and Review!**_

_Kiera_

_Blood_...blood is everywhere...in my hair, on my face, my clothes, the walls, and floor...gushing in turrents from the bullet hole in his chest. All is silent...the guests have ceased their gossiping and dancing. They stand in awe...staring at the body on the floor that is now twitching slightly. The only sound is the ringing in my ear from the shot.

I begin to shake as I stare at the crimson substance speckling my skin. A bead slides down my cheek from just below my eye; I appear to be crying tears of blood. I wipe it away with a trembling finger. The hole in the wall merely inches from where I stood against the wall doesn't help calm me. My legs are shaking horribly, making me crumble to the ground.

"Are you all right?" A gendarme appears in front of me, a smoking rifle in hand. "Miss? You're not hurt, are you?" He stoops down next to me.

"I...I'm fine."

"Good. I'm Captain Gaston Maurette."

"But why are you here?" I ask.

"We've been after him for a while now. He's a maniac."

A groan draws my attention to my left. Erik is leaning against the wall, his hand clamped over his right forearm. After a moment, he slides to the floor. "Erik!" I exclaim, crawling over to him. "How bad is it?" I try to pry his hand away from his arm.

"I don't think it's serious," he replies, removing his hand.

I lift the shredded pieces of cloth that were his jacket and shirt; however, I cannot see the extent of the damage due to the amount of blood covering the exposed flesh. I tear off a piece the tattered cloth and wipe away the blood until I can see the scratch spanning the width of his forearm. "No, it isn't bad at all...just a scratch."

"There is a doctor nearby, Monsieur; perhaps you should pay him a visit...all of you. The two of you..." He nods to me and Madam. "May not be aware of any wounds at the moment, but the adrenaline numbs you to any pain you should feel. I think you should go to be on the safe side."

"Kiera, what about Anna?" Erik looks towards the stairs.

"I'll get her." I stand and start towards the stairs. "Madam, will you help Erik?"

"Child, I will tend to Anna. Erik will soon be your husband; you are each other's responsibility." Madam hurries up the stairs and returns holding Anna's hand as I retake my place at Erik's side.

"Pardon me, but I really should be getting you to the doctor," Captain interjects.

"Very well, Captain."

"My men are waiting outside; we'll have to wait for the mortition to remove the body and file a report on what the scene looks like. I'll escort you to the doctor personally."

"Merci, Monsieur." I move to Erik's other side and help him up. "Come, mon chere."

Erik walks at my side into the streets. "You realize I'll be asked to remove my mask?" he asks quietly. The Phantom has been erased from memory almost entirely in the police records. They aren't searching for him anymore, but still, it's better to be safe than sorry.

"I'll discuss the matter with the doctor and then, after you've been patched up, I'll go get us all some clean clothes and your mask," I answer. "Madam, Anna, you must not mention that he's the Phantom," I whisper.

"Of course, Kiera." She nods and puts her hand on Erik's shoulder.

"Not to worry, Kiera," Anna adds, holding on to my arm.

"Here we are," Captain Maurette says as we arrive at a small house about a block away from the inn. He knocks on the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" An elderly man opens the door in his night cap and robe. "Oh, Captain Maurette. I'm sorry about that. I don't normally have guests so late. How can I help you?"

"These four are in need of your help, Doctor Crenoix. He's been grazed by a bullet and the others just need to be examined."

"Very well. Come inside and I'll be with you in a moment." He steps aside and leads us into a pleasent den with a small fire in the fireplace. "Have a seat on the sofa, Monsieur."

Erik nods and lowers himself onto the soft cushions of the sofa. "I cannot believe this. The night I propose and get one step closer to what I had always thought impossible, Nadir goes on a maniacal rampage. I never would have thought that he'd be the one to go completely insane."

"Erik, I think we should drop the subject for the night."

"Monsieur, I'll need you to remove your jacket and anything under it." Doctor Crenoix appears with a bowl of water, a wrag, and bandages. "For privacy, I'll need you ladies to leave the room."

"Of course." Madam, Anna, and I start to leave the room.

"Kiera!" Erik calls, reaching out and taking my hand. "Please, she's my fiance."

I smile and kiss his hand. "Yes."

"It's true, Doctor," Madam says, closing the door to the adjoining room that her and Anna have gone into.

"Very well. Monsieur...please."

Erik pulls his arms out of his jacket, wincing as he uses his left arm, and drops the jacket on the ground.

"I'll help you, dear." I move to where I can unbutton his vest; he smiles at me, though he appears a bit nervous about having my hands so near to his chest and manhood. "Not to worry, chere." I remove his vest, followed by his shirt.

"Merci, ma cherie."

Doctor Crenoix examines Erik's arm for a moment before reaching for the water and wrag. "It's not serious, Monsieur. Just keep it clean and you should be fine." He begins to cleanse the wound, before trying to strike up a conversation to lift the deathly silence. "So, Mademoiselle, you are his fiance?"

"Yes, Doctor," I return.

"How long have you been engaged?" he questions.

"About thirty minutes," I laugh, looking down at the engagement ring on my finger.

"Congratulations. I wish you both nothing but happiness."

"Merci."

Doctor Crenoix finishes wrapping Erik's arm and begins to wash his hands. "Well, there you are, Monsieur. Now, will you be needing a place to stay for the night or have you somewhere to go?"

Erik's eyes move to me; I know he's thinking _Le Opera Populaire_.

"We have a residence near the Opera."

"Good heavens! That's a long walk...and at this time of night...I must insist that you all stay here for the night. I have two guest rooms; either the engaged couple can share a room and Madam and the little girl have the other room, or the ladies stay in one and you, Monsieur, in the other. I leave the decision to you."

"Thank you for your generosity, Doctor Crenoix," I say, shaking his hand.

Doctor Crenoix examines me, finding no injuries; the same goes for Anna and Madam. We all decide that, as Erik and I are engaged, we will share a room...so long as we promise to keep our clothes on...and Anna and Madam Mardon will share the other. Doctor Crenoix has given me and Madam each one of his deceased wife's night gowns to wear; Anna was given of his shirt, and Erik recieved a blue pair of pajamas. He looks quite abnormal in them.

"Now, you two behave. I'd rather have to wait for grandchildren until after you're married," Madam teases as she enters the room she and Anna will stay the night in.

"Not to worry, Madam," I laugh.

"Very well. Bon nuit, my dears." She closes the door.

Erik chuckles and putting his hands around my waist, pulls me against him. "Come, my dear."

I smile and start towards the room we will be staying in. Before I reach the door, however, Erik scoops me up and carries me to the bed. He then lies me down on the mattress as carefully as if I am the delicate violin that he plays so passionately. "Mon chere, you realize that I am quite capable of walking, but I thank you for the convenient transportation." I kiss his cheek as he leans over me where I lay. "But what about your arm?"

"The morphine Doctor Crenoix administered deadened it." He presses his lips to mine, one hand holding him up and the other on my cheek.

My hands find their way up his arms, stopping momentariely to grip his firm biceps and then continue on their chosen path up to his neck. They clamp on to the back of his neck, pulling him down. He shows no rejections and simply lies atop me, savoring every moment that my lips are in his possession.

Erik's hands also take to a path...one that leads them down my side, following every curve, to my thighs. "Kiera..." He pulls away a moment to take a breath. "Had I told you of my love for you while we were both in Persia, would you have accepted it as you did nearly four months ago?"

"Yes. I loved you then as I do now and always will," I reply. "However, we both know you were too shy, as was I, to confess such."

"_Oui_."

Again I smile, blushing as his lips find my collarbone. "Erik, we both need our rest." I somehow manage to roll him onto his back. "I know what you are feeling and the desire swelling inside you, but it _**will**_ wait until the night after our marriage. Bon nuit, mon chere." I relocate to the other side of the bed.

"As you wish." He slips under the covers beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Bon nuit, cherie."


	2. Chapter 2

_Christine_

"Damn that man!" I hear an irritated masculine voice shout, immediately followed by the sound of two fists colliding with the wood of a desk.

I venture from my room in the de Chagney's mansion, down the hall a few doors, and into Raoul's study. "Raoul?" I open the door slightly and step in to find him with his hands clenched in fists on his desk, the day's paper scattered in individual sheets about the room. "What's going on?"

"The gendarmes are incompetent fools! How hard can it be to find one man!"

"Who?" I lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Please, don't act like you don't know! You are perfectly aware of who. Erik!" he retorts angrily. "The gendarmes still cannot find him!"

"Raoul, Erik is much wittier than you give him credit for. He won't be so easy to find; in fact, he's probably already moved to some other town. He knows better than to stay around here," I explain.

"I don't care where he goes! I will find him, and he will be brought to justice."

"Raoul, my dear, why is it so difficult for you to understand him. Just think about it...how would you act if you were abandoned as an infant, brought up by gypsies, and ridiculed for the deformity that isn't your fault."

"Christine, he abducted you from your room and the stage, forced you to do his bidding, and brain-washed you. How can you still have sympathy for that...that monster?" He grips my shoulders as he comes to his feet. "He deserves to die."

"He deserves a second chance just like everyone else." I pull away and glare at him.

"No...he doesn't."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

_"Erik Mardon, you have been convicted of three counts of murder by a jury of Parisians, as you have no peers. Now, I sentence you to face the firing squad in three days," an angry judge said, lowering his gavel having finished his statement._

_Erik's face was as hard as stone as he was dragged away in shackels. He knew this day would come...the day when he'd be forced to surrender to the law. He didn't fight as they took him away, constantly being either bludgened by a gendarme's nightstick or spat upon by some angry past resident from the Opera Populaire._

_In the crowd sat his bewildered wife...never had she thought that her dear husband would be taken away from her. She wasn't sure whether to protest at the top of her lungs or fall to her knees and weep, though neither was good for her or the child within her. She watched as he was beaten and belittled. She didn't see the man she had married two years ago. What she saw was the tormented child he had been many years before. This was hardly a fair trial...she was not even questioned about his behavior and given the oppurtunity to speak on his behalf._

_"Kiera..." she heard him breath as he fell to the ground from a blow to the back of the head from the butt of a musket._

_She immdeiately rose to her feet and rushed to where he lay. "Erik!" Falling upon him, she sheltered him from the gendrarmes aggressive and unnecessary actions; surely they were not cruel enough to beat a pregnant woman._

_"Move, Madam," they ordered._

_"No," she refused harshly. "I'll not let you hurt him! Has he not endured enough!"_

_"Why is it you care, Madam?" the judge questioned, stepping down from his pedestal. _

_"I care because he is my husband and the father of my child."_

_"And how is it you could wed and bed this...beast? Did you cover his face with a burlap sack." He chuckles, the entire courtroom joining him._

_"Love knows no boundaries, your honor. I love this man with all of my heart. We can understand one another better than anyone else can. I guarentee you that not even Madam Antoinette Giry knows as much about him as I. Tell me, Monsieur, do you believe you are bringing justice by putting him to death?" she asked boldly._

_"This monster has killed three people in cold blood...of course I am bringing justice," he replied._

_"Very well...then why is it that the Comte and Comtess de Chagney are not being sent to the firing squadron along with him? Why aren't all of the gendarmes, the gypsies in that damned travelling fair, the entire jury, and everyone in this world who has ever ridiculed him or someone like him, being sent to the wall to be shot?"_

_"Madam Mardon, that is not the same as murder. Now, please, allow these gentleman to take that lunatic away."_

_"No! You'll not take him, and it is exactly the same as murder! You and people like you took any hopes of having a normal life away from him! You murdered the spirit of his childhood! You are the murderers!"_

_"Kiera..." Erik whispered. "You're going to get yourself into more trouble than you can get out of. Please, for your sake and the baby's."_

_"I won't let them take you without them knowing our point-of-view!"_

_"I've heard enough!" the judge orders. "Madam, if you do not stand aside, you will be killed immediately."_

_"That's fine...the blood of two more people on your hands. Atleast I'll be with my husband. I've done my share of wrongs in my time but there is a thing called forgiveness. I ask for it every day when I go to the chapel...for every unkind word I've said and the day I killed my father." She waited for the gasp the crowd would surely give. Having recieved it, she said, "Yes...I killed my father with his own gun. He had tried many a time to kill me and did kill our neighbor...only because she was protecting me. The lot of you deserve death for what you have done as much as any common criminal!"_

_**BANG!**_

_A rifle was fired and Kiera fell in a pool of blood. Erik scrambled to her side and lifted her head. "Kiera...Kiera, my darling!" he cried as her eyes fluttered open, blood draining from her body at an overhwleming speed; she wouldn't last long. "Why did you do that?"_

_"How can I live without you? I'll be waiting for you, mon chere." She took one last wragged breath, and her eyes closed as Death wrapped its cold fingers around her heart. _

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

_Kiera_

"Kiera!" Erik exclaims, shooting up from bed.

"Erik..." I sit up and take his hands. "Erik, I'm right here." I try to console my terrified fiance.

"Kiera...ma cherie..." he stammers, tears running down his cheeks. "You're alive!"

"Yes." I place my hands on his cheeks, caressing them gently with a smile gracing my lips; I treat him as I would a frightened child...I bring his head to my chest, letting him continue to release his sorrow for the outcome of the nightmare. "Hush, now, mon chere."

"Is everything all right?" Madam Mardon opens the door. "What's going on?" At the sight of Erik, she rushes forward and quickly takes my place. "Mon beau, what is wrong?"

He immediately calms..he's not one for showing such emotion around others. "I'm fine...just a...a...a rather...troubling dream."

"What about?"

"I'd prefer not to discuss it. Afterall, it was a mere dream...nothing to be worried about."

"Madam Mardon? Where are you?" Anna calls in a trembling voice.

"Madam, I believe she is calling for you. Everything is in order here." I usher her out, shutting the door behind her.

"Now, are you all right, Erik?" I take a seat beside him.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep peacefully. My slumber is always disturbed by these bloody nightmares; however, having you here does seem to calm me once I wake, and they're normally far worse than what the latest have been."

"Worse? How in the world did you cope with them at the Opera?"

"Music. After waking, I'd go straight to my organ and play," he answers, pulling me against him. "Speaking of which, would you mind if I went to the Opera to get my mask and change into some better clothes. I'll bring you, Madam, and Anna some new clothes as well."

"Of course I don't mind..." I grab his arm as he stands up. "I'm going with you."

"Kiera...I think it's best if you stay here."

"You aren't going to that God forsaken place alone; it's not safe with the gendarmes out and about thanks to Monsieur Khan's psychopathic rampage." I pull on a pair of flat-bottoms from the closet and wrap a quilt around my shoulders. "No...I won't let you go by yourself."

He laughs quietly. "Fine, but we must leave my mother a note; she might have a fit if she finds us missing without an explanation."

"I must agree." With a scrap of paper and a quill, I scratch out a note for Madam Mardon. "Now, how are we getting out of here?" I look around but Erik's no where to be found. "Erik? Erik!" Panic takes hold of me as I search the room for him.

"The window, dear," I hear him say gently.

I look to the window to find it wide open and Erik's head just bearly visable above the window-sill. "There you are..." I sigh, putting my hand to my chest, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. "You frightened me."

"I'm sorry; it's just that I found our way out. Come. The climb isn't very far, and the vines give us something to hold on to."

I go to the window and look down...it's about twelve feet down. "Erik..."

Just as I speak his name, he reaches the ground and turns about, looking up at me. "You've nothing to fear. I'll catch you if you fall."

"Very well." I climb over the ledge and begin my descent slowly, testing every place I step. After a few minutes, I feel Erik's hands locate themselves on either side of my waist, guiding me to the ground. "Merci, mon chere."

He smiles and take my hand. "Let's go."

He leads me through the streets, down alleys, around buildings, and past any threatening shadow that lurks in the darkness. Once we are just across the street from the Opera, Erik says, "I'd better go first. There's not much telling who or what may be in the alley. I'll come back for you once I'm certain it's safe." He kisses my hand and hurries to the other side without a sound.

All is quiet for a brief moment; however, the silence is broken by the sound of heavy breathing and a raspy voice. "Well, well, what have we here?" Behind me stands a rather gruff looking man with a beard that seems to be about a month old; he smells awful...like urine and rotten tomatoes. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing in the streets at this hour?"

"Monsieur, you appear to be in desperate need of rest and a bath. I believe you should find your way home." I'm not afraid of this man...he's probably a mere drunk who's lost his way. I walk further up the street to avoid him.

He gives a wicked laugh and follows me, latching onto my wrist with his dirty hand. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Away from you." I yank my hand away. "Be on your way, Monsieur," I order harshly.

"I'm sorry, Mam'selle. I don't take orders from whores." He thrusts himself upon me, knocking me to the ground.

"Get off!" I scream, lashing at his face with my nails. "I'm not a whore!"

"Oh, you're not? My mistake...you will be soon!" He restrains my arms as he tastes the skin of cheek.

"You bastard!" I manage to free one of my arms and scratch his face. He topples over, his hand covering his face, and I get up to run across the street to the Opera...to my protector...to Erik.

"You won't get away that easily, Mam'selle." He tackles me to the ground...I now lie on my stomach...unable to fight back. From the corner of my eye I can see him undoing his trousers quite quickly.

"No! Erik, help me! Help...Someone!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

"No one's going to help you, miss," he laughs, rolling me onto my back. "Now, lie here and be quiet. Things will be so much better if you're silent and don't resist. All I want is to ease this lust of mine, and then I'll let you go on your way." He pushes my night-gown upward.

"Get off of her!" the voice of a highly aggitated man rings out. The roughian atop me is removed by a dark figure standing behind him. "She's not a prostitute!" The figure picks the man up by his collar and thrusts him against the wall of a nearby building. "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," the figure growls.

"I...I...I'm sorry, Monsieur," the drunk stammers, shielding his face from the figures.

"Get out of here!" The figure throws him to the ground...away from me. Then, this silhouette moves towards me. In fear, I scoot back to try to escape. "Kiera...cherie, it's me." The voice is now calm and soothing.

"Erik?" I look up at my fiance. "Merci!"


	3. Chapter 3

_Kiera_

He scoops me up and to the alley entrance of the Opera. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"It's all right. What matters is that you came...and just in time to save me from being raped." I wrap my arms around his neck and press my forehead to his cheek.

"Indeed. Now, he didn't hurt you, did he?" He puts me on my own two feet inside the Opera and holds me up, keeping a firm grip on my shoulders.

"Just a few bruises and a scrape here and there; otherwise, I'm fine, but how are you? What about your arm? Surely the morphine isn't still working." I run my fingers across the part of his arm where the bullet grazed him.

"Adrenaline." He removes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. "Let's go find you some clothes from the ballet dorms." He leads me down the corridors to the back of a mirror that leads into a dressing room. He stops as he reaches out to open it.

"Erik?"

"Christine..." he whispers unconsciously.

"Mon chere." I turn his face towards me. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Let's continue."

We arrive in the costume room shortly and begin to search the racks for fitting, not to mention appropriate, dresses. "Erik, do you think Anna would like green?"

"She has blonder hair...blue is the color she looks best in. There should be a little blue dress from _Hannibal_ that she can wear." He directs me to a rack on the opposing side of the room. "I'll let you decide on yours and Mother's. I'm going to my home to retrieve my mask and normal attire."

"Very well. Shall I wait for you here, then?"

"Yes. I won't be too long." He kisses my cheek and leaves.

I rumage through all the costumes until I've found a black dress that seems to be a left over from _Don Juan Triumphant_. I put it on immediately...not wanting to risk Erik walking in while I'm changing. It fights tightly around my waist, but the skirt is loose and hangs as low as my ankles. I also find a pair of black heals and stockings.

"You look lovely." A pair of arms take me around the waist. "Have you gotten everything needed?"

"Nearly." I hold up a dark blue dress. "However, I'm not certain if she'd like this."

"If she does not, she can change into something else when we return to the inn." He takes the dress, along with the one for Anna, and puts them in a bag sitting on the ground beside him. "Shoes?"

I pick up the two pairs of shoes and put them in the bag, letting a long yawn escape me as I straighten up.

"You're tired. We'll stay here until morning. I have some bandages in my home; we'll take care of your scrapes and get this unfortunate injury of mine taken care of."

"Erik, no. Madam and Anna will be worried as it is."

"Kiera..." He ushers me back through the mirror and down to the lake. He helps me into the boat and begins to row across. However, before we reach the other side, my eyes grow heavy, exhaustion consuming me.

I open my eyes later to find the celing moving. "Erik?" I turn my head to see him smiling down at me.

"It's all right."

"You should have woken me, chere. I could have walked," I complain as he sits me down in one of the chairs of the kitchen table. "I'm not entirely helpless."

"I am aware of that, but I didn't want to wake you."

I blush. "Still...with your arm in the shape it is..."

"My arm is fine...all I have to do is change the bandages." He starts opening the cabinets, scanning each briefly before shutting the door. "Where is that salve?" he mutters to himself.

"What is it you're looking for?" I adjust my sitting position to perhaps see what lies in the cabinets.

"A mixture I learned from the gypsies that was used to remedy bruises. I know I still have some, but the question is...where?" He moves on to the next door. "I promise you're bruises will be gone in twenty-four hours."

"I'm surprised you'd actually use such..especially if the gypsies concocted it." I look at my arms...the man's handprints are already visable and slightlly painful to the touch.

"They weren't as ignorant as they seemed and were good for something." He pulls a jar from one cabinet. "Here it is." He comes back to the table and sits down in the chair beside me. "Let me see your arm."

Holding out my left arm, I take a deep breath.

"Damned drunk..." he growls, applying the odd colored goo to the bruise.

"Did you drink after Christine left, mon chere?" I question as he rubs the substance into my skin.

"I'm afraid so..but when you reappeared after all these years, I did away with the bottle."

"You wouldn't have bottle of brandy hidden somewhere, would you?" I switch arms.

"Why do you ask?" He repeats the procedure on my other arm.

"After everything that's happened in the past 4 hours, I could use a drink." I push my hair out of my face.

He chuckles. "I don't think drinking will help matters. Perhaps some well deserved rest," he suggests. "Any other injuries that need attention?"

"Yes," I reply. He gives me a questioning look. "Your arm." I get up and begin to search the shelves and cabinets for bandages.

"In the third drawer to your left, cherie."

"Merci." I open the specified drawer, retrieving the rolls of bandages, then return to him. "Can you take off your jacket, vest, shirt, and crovatte? Or do I have the honor again?"

"I think I am capable of that, but if you want to.." he starts, a sly grin spread across his face.

"After the way you looked last time when I got to the bottom button of your shirt...I think you should undress yourself."

Again he laughs. "Well, you can't blame me. You were...a...a little close."

"Oh? Tell me, my dear, why that should matter now that we are soon to be wed?" I pull his jacket frorm his shoulders. "And tell me why I shouldn't give myself away to you right now?"

Having removed his arms from the jacket, he places his hands on my forearms and meets my lips. "You said yourself that what we wanted would wait until the night after we're married...to answer both of your questions."

"Well spoken." I begin to remove the rest of his upper body's clothing. "We need to tend to your arm now." He helps take off his vest and shirt; then, I clean the wound on his arm and bandage it.

"Merci, cherie." He grabs his shirt and pulls it on...though he leaves it open...to tease and tempt me no doubt. "Shall we retire, then?"

"I don't think I can sleep, Erik. Let's play a few songs on the piano." I stand and pull him towards the music room in the same fashion a child would tug at its mother's skirts or the hem of its father's jacket.

"Very well." He comes with me to the piano and sits down on the bench. He begins to play a lively tune that I am unfamiliar with; after playing it through once, he looks to me. "Do you think you can play it?"

I smile, "Of course." I play the piece exactly as he...but slightly faster. "Can you keep up?"

He joins in immediately and keeps the same tempo throughout the piece until we near the end. There, he adds a ritardondo that throws me off. He chuckles uncontrollably as I glare at him. "What's wrong, cherie? I thought you could play it."

"I can't read your mind, Erik." I ram my elbow into his rib cage. "Though having that capability might be of some use."

He laughs for a moment before silencing completely and going into some strange trance...staring at piano keys.

"Erik..." I study his face; he appears to be recalling some painful memories. Then, I realize what I've done. By hitting him in the side, I've drawn the memories of his beatings in the gypsy fair back to the front of his mind. "Oh...Erik, I didn't mean to remind you."

"I'm going to bed." He gets up from the piano and disappearss into the shadows of his chamber, shutting the door behind him.

I sigh and go the door. Knocking lightly, I call to him, "Erik? Please, darling, I didn't mean to..."

"Leave me, cherie."

"Erik...why must you be so stubborn?" I exclaim. "Why is it so difficult for you to believe that I don't want to hurt you? I'm not Christine! I'm not some tramp who's only out for herself!"

He opens the door and stares at me with a burning desire in his eyes. "If I thought you wanted to hurt me, I would have never asked you to marry me! And I would never do this!" He picks me up and carries me to the room I normally stay in, lying me on the bed. "It's best if you stay in here...away from me." He starts towards the door. "Something terrible could happen should you stir the monster within me anymore than you have already." Locking the door, he leaves me alone.

"Erik Mardon!" I hurry to the door and pound on it with my fists. _He's locked me in._ "Erik, let me out. You cannot keep me here like a prisoner!" I do not recieve a spoken reply; I only hear the sound of metallic objects being flung about and then a sorrowful tune being played on the organ. "Erik..." I succomb to the tears welling in my eyes and lie on the bed until I fall asleep.

"Kiera...Kiera, ma cherie," a soft, heavenly voice beckons to me. "M'ange, we must return to Anna and my mother."

"Erik, what time is it?" I sit up and look at him.

"Eight A.M., my dear. Come." He helps me from the bed and wipes away the tears still on my cheeks with his thumb. "And I apologize for earlier. It's just that...I was afraid I might hurt you physically or worse. You aren't familiar with my temper."

"I apologize, as well. I should have been mindful of your past. It's my fault for our little spat."

"I know you didn't mean to bring back those memories." He kisses my forehead. "Enough of this. We have to get back."


	4. Chapter 4

_**I DO NOT OWN THE SONG IN THIS CHAPTER. IT IS FROM OZZY OSBORNE'S LATEST ALBUM BLACK RAIN. THE SONG'S CALLED LAY YOUR WORLD ON ME. READ AND REVIEW. SORRY IT MOVES SO QUICKLY. AU REVOIR. AND THE WEDDING PLANS ARE QUITE DULL SO..FORGIVE ME, PLEASE.**_

_Kiera_

A week has passed since Nadir's death; we wanted to take his body back to Persia to bury him beside Reza and Rookheya, but the police would not permit it. Instead, we were forced to lay him to rest in a local cemetery. On his grave we placed peace lillies...a sign of our forgiveness. Madam Mardon didn't want us to put anything besides his name on the gravestone; however, the daroga was our friend for quite a while. Carved into the stone, by Erik himself, is _Nadir Khan Beloved Father, Husband, and Friend_.

"I'll miss him, despite everything that happened." I sigh heavily, gazing over his grave after the funeral. "The poor man had been through a great deal of loss during his time here."

"Indeed, but he's better off now. We should go, cherie; it's getting late." Erik kisses my hand and pulls me towards the carriage waiting for us with Madam and Anna inside it. With one last glance at Nadir's grave, I get in and keep my eyes lowered as we make our way back to the inn.

Once we return and have settled, Madam and I serve tea as Anna teaches Erik a new game she learned. "I tire of all this sorrow. Let's switch to a happier topic." When we all give her a questioning stare, she says, "The wedding. You haven't planned anything, have you?"

"No, Madam."

"Well, then, let's decide right now. Sit down, and we'll start."

"Fine...but let's be quick about it. I hardly think it's a appropriate to plan a wedding when we should be mourning." I sigh.

"Then we'll just get the basic things taken care of: size, wardrobe, place, date. We'll plan a bit more later on." Seeing that Erik and I are seated next to one another and Anna has relocated from the floor to the footstool, she begins, "What size?"

"Small," Erik and I chime together.

"Two guests...you and Anna." Erik looks to me for approval.

"Yes, and the priest shall keep our marriage from the papers but binding and legal," I add.

"Wardrobe?"

"I think Kiera should wear a long, beautiful, white gown with a veil," Anna interjects.

"Anna, let's keep it simple. The midnight blue evening gown that Madam gave to me will do."

"I will wear my normal suit."

"Rings?"

"I will make them. I've got something special I want engraved in Kiera's," Erik is quick to say.

"Very good. How about location? There is a nice, small church just outside Paris near the place where we picnic that seems suitable. I know the priest; I'm sure he'd agree to your terms and be more than happy to marry you."

A knock at the door distracts us. "I'll answer it." I wriggle out of Erik's arms and open the door to a young mail carrier. "Can I help you, Monsieur?"

"I'm looking for a Kiera Torque; I'd heard she stayed here."

"I am Kiera Torque."

"This is for you, Mademoiselle." He hands a large envelope to me and leaves without a word.

I read the writing on it: _To Kiera Torque From Madam Ariana Bardoix_. "Madam Bardoix!" I gasp. Opening the envelope, I find several documents that, after some investigation, I find to be her will. "Oh, dear God!" I exclaim.

"Kiera!" Erik rushes up to me. "Cherie, are you all right? What is that?"

"It's Madam Bardoix's will."

"Madam Bardoix? The elderly woman who took you in when your father tried to kill you?" Erik takes the papers and looks over them. "She's willed her home and everything in it to you." He narrows his eyes as though there is something that he cannot believe. "And/or husband..."

"Well, once we are married, it will be _**our **_house, but she has two sons who are married and probably have children. Why wouldn't she leave the house to them?"

"Here's a letter from her." He hands me a letter written in Madam's script.

_"My dearest Kiera,_

_I hope this letter finds you where ever you are at this point in your life. If you are reading this letter, you know that I have passed. You're probably wondering why I have willed my house and all its contents to you. Well, allow me to explain. When I first met you, I knew you were a beautiful and talented young woman. You're parents loved you, child. Your father should have never resorted to drinking after your mother's untimely death, but he truly did love you. When you came into my home, you filled me with joy that I had not felt in a long time. I'm sad to say, not even my own children, Henri and Pierre, could compete with the overwhelming glee I felt in my heart while you were with me._

_Everything in my home, including the house itself, is yours. You don't have to worry about that old house of your father's...by the time you recieve this letter, it will have been torn down. Your instruments, such as the piano, piccolo, flute, trumpet, French horn, and clarinet...along with all of the sheet music that could be found are in your old room._

_Sincerely,_

_Madam Bardoix 'Maman' "_

"It seems Madam Bardoix had all of this planned out long before your father decided to go completely insane. However, how did she know that your father would no longer be in that house?"

"She had notified the police of his brutality towards Kiera," a new voice answers from the doorway.

"Pierre?" I ask at the sight of the man.

"Bonjour, Kiera. I'm sorry for just waltzing in. The door was unlocked." He bows and then kisses my hand. He is much older now...probably in his late thirties or early forties. "She intended to have Monsieur Torque taken to the asylum, and then take you in to raise herself. She never thought that your father would stoop to murdering anyone else just to get to you."

"I'm honestly amazed that you haven't blamed me for her death."

"Henri and I both blamed you at first; however, we realized that Mother loved you like her own and you loved her. We knew you could never hurt her. I apologize," he explains. "For that day when we came to visit with our wives and treated you so poorly. I'd never seen Mother so happy. You have my apologies for everything."

"I accept. Allow me to introduce my fiance...Erik Mardon. Erik, mon chere, this is Pierre Bardoix...Madam Bardoix's eldest son."

"Fiance? Well, it's an honor to meet you, Monsieur Mardon, and my congratulations. I hope the two of you have a wonderful life together. Au revoir." He turns to leave.

"Pierre, won't you stay and have some tea?"

"I wish I could, but Laurette is waiting for me in the carriage. Thank you for the offer though." He closes the door behind him leaving Erik and I both baffled.

"What will you do with her house, darling?"

"We'll restore it and then live there after the wedding. I don't think the cellars of a burned opera house are the best place to live..." I glance at him and smile. "And perhaps raise a family."

His eyes soften and his lips curve into a grin. "Perhaps."

"Who was it, dears?" Madam greets us.

"You remember the woman I told you about who cared for me for a short time?"

"Yes. Why?"

"In her will, she gave me her house and all its contents. Here is the deed." I show the document to her. "The other man we spoke to was her oldest son."

"Then the two of you will have a house of your own to stay in. Now, shall we get back to planning the wedding? All that's left is to set the date."

"How about three weeks from now? April 29th?" I suggest. "That will give us time to make sure the priest can be ready, and we'll also have time to fix up Madam Bardoix's house."

"Very well. I shall speak with the priest tomorrow." She sighs. "Wonderful."

Two days have passed since I recieved word that I am the new owner...as Erik will be soon...of Madam Bardoix's estate. Erik and I have decided to go see what the years have done to my old home. If we are to live and possibly have a family of our own, it will need renovation. Nothing extravagant for now.

"Here we are," I sigh, stepping from Madam Mardon's carriage. "Isn't it lovely?"

"Quite ordinary," Erik begins. "Yet, beautiful. Shall we see the inside?"

I smile and pull the key from my pocket. As we walk up the path to the front door, I look to where the house I was born in once stood. Tears come to my eyes, the memories from the happier days I spent with my parents returning to the forefront of my mind.

"Madam wasn't lying, then?" He puts his arm around my waist.

"No. I suppose Pierre and Henri went through with her plan." I wipe away a stray tear. "I shouldn't regret that it's gone; there were so many horrible memories in that house, but there were also a few good ones."

"Your real mother?"

"Let's inspect the Madam's house." I walk up to the door and unlock it.

"Kiera...if you want to go to the site..."

"No." I turn the nob and push the door open. All of the furniture within view is covered by white sheets; however, it all seems to be right where it was that night. The pictures on the wall are the same: the small one of Christ hanging over Madam's armchair, the one on the mantle of her husband, and of course, the enormous painting of her entire family hanging proudly above the fireplace. "Everything seems in order here."

Erik pulls the duskcover off the item...the old sofa. "Do I dare ask what memories you have of this?"

"Madam Bardoix would sit there and listen to me play my violin for hours. I remember the first time she convinced me to sing for her. She was sitting right there, and I was standing on the rug, there..." I point to the elaborate multicolored rug covering a great deal of the floor in a circular pattern. "My knees were trembling; I was twiddling my fingers and singing more to the floor even though I knew that I should hold my head high and project my voice." I go to the very place I had stood then and look about, recalling that day.

"What song did you sing?"

"I'm not sure if I remember it."

"You're a terrible liar. Please, sing." He sits down on the sofa and waits.

I agree at last and close my eyes.

_"I know you think you're all alone,_

_I haven't been there when you needed me,_

_I didn't deserve the love you gave,_

_But now I'm telling you, I'm here, if you need a friend._

_Give me your pain,_

_Give me your anger._

_Let me be your rock,_

_I can be the pillar of strength that you need._

_I'll help you keep it all together._

_It's not too late remember,_

_Lay your world on me._

_I can take the weight._

_Don't let it twist you up inside,_

_Time never fails to make the heart ache stop._

_You gotta let those feelings go._

_I'll give you everything I can,_

_If you say the word._

_Give me your pain,_

_Give me your anger._

_Let me be your rock,_

_I can be the pillar of strength that you need._

_I'll help you keep it all together._

_It's not too late remember,_

_Lay your world on me._

_We all laugh and we all cry,_

_We all hurt the same inside._

_We all fall down when we lose faith,_

_In who we really are._

_But if we bend instead of break,_

_The choice for us is to make it together(together)._

_Lay your world on me_

_I hope you keep it all together._

_It's not too late remember,_

_Lay your world on me._

_Lay your world on me._

_Lay your world on me._

_I can take the weight."_

"That was lovely, and it holds a great deal of meaning." Erik stands up, clapping with a smile on his face. "Brava, cherie!"

"Merci, mon chere." I curtsy and then return to him.


	5. Chapter 5

**I think y'all will greatly enjoy this chapter! No...no lemons...yet. **

_**DEDICATION:**_

_**I DEDICATE THIS CHAPTER TO PHANTOMCAT. SHE'S IN GREECE AND WILL BE UNABLE TO READ FOR AT LEAST TWO MONTHS. SHE'S ONE OF MY MOST FAITHFUL READERS AND I'M SAD SHE WON'T HAVE ACCESS TO THE INTERNET TO READ THIS FIC. I REQUEST THAT ALL OF YOU READING THIS KEEP HER AND HER FAMILY IN YOUR PRAYERS. THANKS.**_

_Erik_

Kiera and I have managed to restore Madam Bardoix's house to it's former grandeur within the three week time slot leading up to our marriage. It is beautiful. I, myself, cannot wait until we have taken residence there. Madam Bardoix did not lie about anything in her letter: from the demolition of Kiera's old home to the location of the instruments in the red bedroom my bride-to-be once resided in.

It took some time to convince Kiera to enter the bathroom adjoining her old room. I have never grovelled so much in my life...not even for Christine's acceptance. My fiance is quite the stubborn little wretch at times...much like me, I suppose. Such would explain why we get along so well and add on to the long list of reasons I love her so dearly.

"Erik...are you ready?" Mother asks outside the door to the room I have been preparing in. "Everything is all set in the chapel."

I stare into the mirror, looking at the man in front of me. He's clean shaven, tall, dressed in black, and wears a white mask on the right side of his face. In his blue-green eyes there is a glimmer of happiness. _Could this man be the same Erik Mardon from nearly 6 months ago?_

"Son?" Mother knocks this time and calls a bit louder.

"Coming, Mother." I turn from the mirror and open the door. Her eyes light up. "How do I look?"

She laughs and claps her hands together. "You look marvelous, and to think you wear this every day. Perhpas it's the occassion." Patting my shoulder, she continues, "Go wait at the alter with the priest. I'm going to get Kiera and Anna." Having said this, she hurries away.

I take the rings from my pocket. Both are gold; however, Kiera's is smaller and has an engraving on it. It reads: _We Face the Winding Road Together._ Returning them to my pocket, I ease my way towards the alter. My legs are a bit shaky...never had I thought I'd be getting married. Once I have reached my destination, I stop and decide to strike up conversation with the priest. For the first time ever, silence is not what it had been long ago. "How long have you had this position, Father?"

"Many, many years now; I would trade nothing for it, either. I love doing the Lord's work...it is what keeps me going in hard times." He looks at me and smiles. "How long have you known your bride, if I may ask?"

"Many, many years." Just as I finish this sentence, the priest's attention turns to the back of the chapel. I look to find my beautiful Kiera walking towards me in the midnight blue evening gown she'd spoken of. The sight of her makes my heart beat at an immeasurable speed. The dress comes to just below her collarbone...held in place not only by the lacing in the back but her breasts as well. It fits tightly around the upper protion of her body, revealing every curve and plain. The skirt starts out clinging loosely to her legs, but once it reaches her knees, it begins to billow out, permitting longer strides. Her hair is down, falling over her shouders in two identical silver waterfalls...not even Aphrodite could compare to her beauty. She walks gracefully down the aisle, every step bringing her closer and closer to me. When she is finally before me, I take her hands in my own and smile, whispering, "You look gorgeous."

Her cheeks flush red, her lips curved in an innocent smile. "Merci."

The priest begins his part of the ceremony. Anna and my mother stand near Kiera and I: Anna on the same side as Kiera and Mother on the same side as I. My mother has tears in her eyes, and Anna looks on, mesmorized by the scene before her.

When we have both said our vows and 'I do's, I take the rings from my pocket, keeping Kiera's in my own hand and handing the other to her. I have to draw in a deep breath as I recieve the command to put the ring on her finger. It fits her perfectly and blends in quite well with her engagement ring. Now it is her turn; with a deep breath and slightly trembling hand, she puts the ring on my finger. She then pulls my hand to her lips and kisses it.

"You may kiss the bride."

Kiera and I are a bit shy at first about this but soon overcome it, our lips locking in the sweetest kiss yet. She is still shaking, so I take her around the waist and pull her to me, letting her know that our feelings are the same...that I am just as nervous as she is. After a moment, she relaxes, her hands beginning their familiar accent up my arms until she has wrapped both arms around my neck. This kiss is different from the others. We had merely let our lips meet then, but this time, as we now belong to each other, I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, letting her know that I want more than this. She repsonds immediately by parting her lips and allowing me passage into her mouth. I open my mouth wider against hers as my tongue explores its new surroundings. She soon returns the favor. Never once had I thought any woman's kiss could match Christine's the night she left, let alone be even more sensational. _Being wrong isn't always a bad thing._

"Behold, Monsieur and Madam Mardon." The priest outstretches his hands.

Anna and Mother's clapping and cheering pulls us apart...our glorious moment ending far too soon.

"Congratulations." Mother hugs us both, kissing our cheeks quickly. "Today is a wonderful day. All of my children are married."

"Merci," I reply. Kiera only leans against me, burying her face in my chest. A fit of shyness has overtaken her. "Kiera, my love?"

"I'm fine...overwhelmed, I suppose. I never thought I'd be in this position...I never thought I'd be a bride...never thought I'd be married."

"Well, cherie, you are, but don't fret. I never thought I'd be married to a goddess." I place my hand under her chin and raise her head up to where our eyes meet.

Again her cheeks turn red. "Erik...I suppose you can add flattery to the long list of things you have mastered."

I chuckle and kiss her forehead. "Along with my love for you."

"I never thought I'd see the day." A familiar voice comes from the back of the chapel. My gaze settles on a dark figure standing at the end of the aisle. "I didn't think you could love again, Erik." Antoinette Giry steps forward; she hasn't changed at all since I last saw her. "And Kiera Torque...Reyer's most prized violinist. I'd never truly considered the possibility of the two of you meeting...let alone being bound to one another by marriage."

"Antoinette?" I cock my head to one side, unable to believe that my childhood savior is before me. "Is that you?"

"I could ask the very same question, Erik." She makes her way to the alter where Kiera and I stand, arms around one another. "Whatever happened to 'Christine Daae is the only woman I can love.'? What brought you from that deep state of depression you'd fallen to after her departure with the Vicomte?"

"Not all loves are true, Antoinette. What was in my heart for Christine is no more; I have found my other half...my soul's mate." I look down at Kiera; her eyes are glued to Madam Giry. "Why are you here?"

"I come here often...to pray, confess, and to find peace."

"Might I ask how you know Erik, Madam?" Kiera speaks up at last.

"I saved him from the gypsies' cruelties, brought him to the Opera Populaire...I practically raised him. Unfortunately, I was also a part of many of his plans. Well, the two of you have my congratulations and best wishes. Au revoir and bon chance." She turns quickly and leaves.

"Erik?" Kiera takes my hand. "Are you all right?"

"Madam Giry has done a great deal for me in the time I've known her; I could never repay the debt I owe."

"She has done quite a bit for me, too, Erik, and there is always a way. Have you ever said 'thank you'?" Kiera suggests.

"No." I lower my head in shame. "But I should have."

"Then what are you waiting for you? Go..before she's gone." Kiera ushers me towards the door.

I hurry out the door and down the path, catching Antoinette about 100 yards down the road. "Antoinette!" I call.

She stops and turn around, giving me a questioning look. "Oui?"

"I owe my life to you, Antoinette, and I realize I have done nothing in return for all that you've done for me. I want to say thank you...for everything."

She laughs. "You're welcome." She hugs me tightly. "It's good to see and hear the real Erik...especially after so many years of the Phantom's reign. Make certain you keep it that way; Erik is a good man with a great deal of love in his heart, but the Phantom is a tyrant that is hated by many."

"The Phantom is dead, Antoinette. He died at the Opera."

"Good. Now, return to your new wife. You don't want to worry her." She pats my shoulder and sends me away. "Erik!" She continues when I turn to face her again, "Kiera is a beautiful woman; the two of you are the perfect couple."

"She truly is. Merci. Au revoir, Antoinette. Best regards to you and Meg." I bow and make my way back to the chapel where Mother, Anna, and Kiera, my lovely wife, are waiting for me.

"Everything is settled, then?" Kiera greets me.

"Oui, ma cherie." I kiss her cheek.

"You two are perfect for each other," Mother sighs. "I can't wait for more grandchildren. Oh, I'm certain they'll be lovely and talented like their parents."

"What makes you certain we'll have offspring, Mother?" I ask, ignoring Kiera's smiling face.

"Erik, what are you talking about? I'm certain not having children is less likely than the latter...especially if you're anything like your father, and I know you are."

"Madam, Erik, I hardly think this is a topic discuss around Anna; she's barely seven years old," Kiera interjects...to no avail.

"And the meaning of that would be?"

"Enough!" Kiera exclaims, holding her hands up between Mother and I. "That's quite enough. Those who should know the answer to that question, Erik, are well aware of it, and those who are not old enough to know will remain unaware."

"Pardon me, cherie," I say, calming down

"Oui. Forgive me, Kiera."

"Very good. Now, let's go home, shall we?" She takes my arm.

"Yes, and I believe you said something would wait until the night after our wedding."

"That I did." She gives me a mischeivous grin. "But first, allow me to change into some more comfortable clothes." I agree and watch as she returns to the church. After a moment, she reappears wearing a green bodice dress. Her hair is up in a messy bun. "Now I'm ready." She walks towards Caesar and begins to stroke his mane.

I chuckle and follow her. Mounting my loyal horse, I extend my arm to Kiera and pull her up. She sits with both her legs dangling off one side. Fortunately, I decided a blanket would be more suitable than a normal saddle or side-saddle. I put my arms around her, holding tight to the reigns, and whistle for Caesar to go.


	6. Chapter 6

**There is a warning on into this chapter where the "lemons" begin. It is important, however, to read the beginning of this chapter. There is valuable information you must know for later chapters. Thanks. That means you'll have to read part of this chapter anyway, Mengela. Bwahaha!**

_Kiera_

Erik turns Caesar towards Madam Bardoix's old home...our new home. Once we've arrived, he lifts me from Caesar's back and carries me to the porch. I wriggle out of his arms, lift my skirt, and begin to run towards the woods. "Come on, Erik! It's barely four o'clock!"

I hear him laugh as he runs after me. "This game won't last too long. I'll be able to catch you quite easily."

"I doubt that. I'm a lot faster than you think, my dear, and I know these woods quite well." I dart into the brush and remove my shoes so I can run and manuever through my surroundings more easily. "Catch me...if you can." I run across the trail several yards infront of where my husband is standing.

"My pleasure." He hurries after me.

I stop beside a tree once I am certain he has lost sight of me. _I'll make things more interesting, _I thinkI grab hold of a low limb and pull myself up. From here, I climb ever higher until I believe that I am high enough Erik cannot see me.

"Bon soir, cherie," Erik's voice comes from the foot of the tree. "A clever hiding place...but not clever enough."

I look down; he is standing just in front of the tree, gazing up at me. "You haven't caught me yet, mon chere." I jump to a large branch in the tree only a few feet away and begin to climb down. Luckily, Erik must find his way through the thick brush to get to me. "You'd better hurry, Erik," I tease as I turn to run deeper into the forest.

"Not to worry, cherie," Erik chuckles from a mere five feet away; he's succeeded in getting through the wall of bushes, vines, and other various woody shrubs.

"Erik!" I gasp, stumbling back.

"It appears that you have underestimated me, my wife."

"Yes, it does, but this isn't over." I run back onto the path and start towards the valley a short distance ahead. The two of us run down the path into the sea of green. I manage to avoid Erik for a bit by changing direction suddenly. However, as I start to grow weary, my feet begin to drag, and I find myself stumbling. Then, when I turn, my feet get tangled, causing me to trip and fall face first into the grass.

"Well , well...what have we here?" Erik sneers.

I roll over to see him standing over me, smiling like the cheshire cat. "Hello, darling," I pant.

"In need of some assistance, m'ange?" He offers me his hand.

"No, but you, Erik, are in need of help." I show him a sly smile.

He raises a brow and asks, "Really? What might I need help with? I believe I am the one standing, and you are the one lying on the ground."

"Precisely. You are not down here with me." I grab his hand and pull him down. I laugh and sit up as he raises himself from on top of me, a horribly confused look consuming his visage. "Oh, Erik, it's so much more comfortable down here."

He sighs and then smiles playfully, caressing my cheek with the back if his hand. "I think you look so much more beautiful with your hair down." He removes the pins, my hair cascading down my back and over my shoulders. "That's better," he says running his fingers through the waterfall of starlight strands flowing over my right shoulder.

"Merci." I rest both my hands on his cheeks and pull his lips to mine. "You know, my love, it's going to take me a while to grow accustomed to being addressed as 'Madam Mardon'. However, it is nice to know that I have someone to stand by me forever."

"I'm sure you'll get used to it before long." He kisses my cheek. "And I agree. Knowing without a doubt that you have at least one person at your side through it all is a marvelous thought."

For the next several hours, Erik and I simply lie in the grass and stare at the sky, watching the clouds pass overhead. We don't say much; afterall, actions speak louder than words. The glances and smiles we swap say much more than any amount of words. As the sun sets, Erik looks to me and says, "I'll always love you...come what may." He pauses a moment, taking a deep breath, clearly fumbling for the right words. "Kiera, are children something you want?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I...I'm not sure that I want children."

"What do you mean? Haven't you ever considered having your own family?"

"Well, of course. It's just that...until you agreed to marry me, I'd never truly thought a lot about it. Kiera, there is so much at risk when it comes to a woman giving birth. More women die in childbirth than by any other cause. The odds are overwhelming, darling." He looks away. "If I lost you...I'd fall to pieces; you are my world, cherie."

"Erik, my love, I understand the point you're getting at, but...the only way to avoid a pregnancy is to abstain from sexual contact. Somehow, I doubt that either of us will be able to do that." I sigh. "Let's just drop the subject."

"I agree." He sits up, the grass beneath him bent in the shape of his body. "We had better get back before it gets too dark, cherie."

I narrow my gaze. "That's not the only reason."

"I can't lie to you. No, it isn't. Come."

"Don't worry, mon maestro. I, too, am looking forward to the 'music of the night'." I rise to my feet and put a hand on his shoulder. "Shall we walk together? Or am I to play the maiden who must be swept up by her prince charming?"

"I think the role of the maiden suits you for the moment." He quickly scoops me up and starts towards our home.

**WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS LEMONS! THOSE OF YOU WHO DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHY THIS IS RATED M SHOULD STOP READING HERE! THANKS.**

**THE AUTHORESS**

Upon entering the back door, Erik's lips have already united with mine. I break away only long enough to close and lock the door; then, I return to him. As we stumble up the stairs, unable to keep ours hands from the other's body, I remove his coat, flinging it over the railing.

When we finally reach our room, Erik is without his coat, vest, and crovatte. The only thing I am without is my shoes; they are still in the forest behind the bushes. He turns to close and lock our bedroom door, while at the same time, pulls his feet from his shoes...along with socks. Facing me again, he exposes a mischievous grin and moves towards me slowly. Each step only increases the suspense surrounding me.

At last, his hands work with great haste to remove my dress, and I unbutton his shirt and let it flutter to the ground like a ghost. He accomplishes his task without the slightest resistance from me. When I am left with only my corset, underwear, and stockings covering my body, my husband meets my lips again, leading me towards the bed. I fall back onto the mattress with Erik's mouth still connected with mine. With some unknown strength, he rips open the corset and tears away the thin shirt beneath it, revealing my breasts. This new sight seems to make him water at the mouth; he knows, though, there is much more left unseen.

My stockings come next. He moves to the foot of the bed and runs his hands up my legs, sending shivers of excitement throughout my body. Grasping them firmly, he recoils his arm slowly, taking the thin fabric with him until all of the flesh of my leg and foot is visible. He follows the same procedure with the other stocking. The removal of my remaining clothing is quick and nearly effortless.

"Erik..." I whisper, drawing his attention.

"Oui, ma cherie?" His face is but a few inches from mine.

"The mask and wig." I reach up and remove the mask, dropping it onto my dress lying in a heap on the floor beside the bed; the wig soon follows. "And last, but not least." I slide my hands down his chest to his trousers. "We can't entirely enjoy ourselves until these are removed."

"Not a problem." Within a brief moment, both of us are wearing nothing but our skin.

Erik hovers over me, his hands and eyes exploring my body: from the hills of my chest, to the plain of stomach. Every inch of me will no longer be a mystery to him. He begins with my upper half. His large hands first roam over my shoulders and down my arms. My breasts are second on the map he is following; for a moment, he merely cups them but decides to squeeze them momentarily before continuing on.

My lower half is less scenic, apparently; he only knows one thing to do. Running his hands down my thigh to the knee, he pulls my leg back, leaving it at an acute angle. It seems more like a mountain now than an appendage for walking. He repeats this process with the other leg, molding my body into a shape that gives him better access to his goal.

I do not object to any of his doings; besides, as long as his tongue is in my mouth, and I am unable to speak, how can I object? Only seconds after he breaks away, my innocence is gone. Not taken away in the fashion it would have been by the drunk in the streets the night of Nadir's death. No. It is given to the man I love. The feeling of his body merging with mine is quite overwhelming. The air was released from my lungs by his entrance, and now I am gasping to get it back. The speed of my heartbeat has jumped greatly, and sweat covers my limbs.

"Thank you, Kiera," he whispers, pressing kisses into the curve of my neck.

With the right side of his face nearest mine, I turn my head and place a kiss at the very heart of the scarring. "I love you."

Our lips find each other again and stay adjoined until he permits me to explore his body. I follow the same route as he did. My hands run over his shoulders and arms, feelings his muscles. His well-built chest is next, but I decide, while I can, I will let my hands roam over his back. As his muscles shift I discover long raised lines...scars...scars left from the beatings he took as a boy. _Please, let these be all._ I move on to his sides to find them scarred as well. _You were brutalized, my dear._

Unfortunately, my exploration for discovery is cut short by his thrust. Instead of air escaping my lungs, a moan of delight comes from my throat. It is followed by another and another as Erik continues. On a few occassions, a scream errupts from my vocal chords.

After a while, being overwhelmed by exhaustion, we untangle our limbs and drift to sleep, huddled together, arms around one another.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all! A quick notice...the one-shot fic I promised for all those who submitted names in the baby name contest for this fic is not going well. Any and all ideas are appreciated. Merci.**

**Now, read and review. I love reviews...they drive me to write more. Who knows, without them...I might cease writing all together. You wouldn't want that, would you?**

**Au revoir,**

**Fop Hunter the Almighty**

_Kiera_

I wake alone...Erik's not in bed. I search the floor for something simple to put on to look about the house for him in. I find my underwear and his shirt. I put them on and after rolling the sleeves of the shirt up, hurry out of the room. "Erik? Erik, where are you?" I call.

The soft, happy melody draws my attention down the hall. I follow the sound until I have reached the music room. Opening the door quietly, I see Erik sitting at the piano, in only his trousers...no mask...no wig. He doesn't appear to notice that I am creeping towards him. I stand behind him and lower my hands onto his shoulders, allowing them to move slowly down his chest. I can feel him shudder at my touch. "Bonjour." I kiss his cheek.

He puts his hands over mine, abandoning the piano keys. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. And you?"

"Fine." Taking my right hand, he guides me to his side and pulls me down onto his lap. "I must say, you look...adorable in my shirt."

"Merci. It seems that...during our heated tumble last night, my dress was misplaced. Your shirt was the first clothing item I found." I lean against him and place one of my hands over his heart, the constant thump reassuring me that I am not dreaming.

"You look much better in it than I do." He kisses my forehead, "Let's go prepare a bit of breakfast. What do you say?"

"Very well, but I believe you'll be needing this back and I'll be in need of some more appropriate clothing." I remove the shirt and drape it over his shoulders before I walk out to dress in our room, folding my arms over my breasts.

I put on a white blouse, then a black vest over it, and a black skirt. Sitting down at the vanity, I try to decide how I will wear my hair today. _You look more beautiful with your hair down, _Erik had said yesterday in the valley. I open a drawer and find one of Madam Bardoix's favorite hair clips. It's approximately four inches long, with diamonds shaped into a crescent moon and a star. I position the clip so it is holding all of my hair back.

Outside, Erik is waiting for me in his normal day dress clothes. "Bonjour, Madam. You look absolutely gorgeous this morning." He offers his arm.

"Merci, Monsieur. You look rather handsome yourself." I accept his offer and interlock my arm with his. "You used the door hidden in the panel, didn't you?"

"That's why I put it there."

"Mon chere, you worked a very long time on preparing that door."

"It wasn't all that difficult. The wall was very thin. What took the longest was getting the damned switch to work."

After breakfast, we go for a walk deep into the woods, following the fox trails and other various paths created by the local animals.

"I never thought I'd experience something so...spectacular," I say, glancing at Erik.

"Neither did I, but 'spectacular' doesn't seem to do our first night justice. I suppose there is no word to describe it."

"Erik, you were...amazing, and that makes me worry that you have had prior experience. My question, I suppose, is, how?" I question nervously, a slight blush coming to my cheeks.

"Dearest, I assure you that you were my first and only; I'd never step out of line. To answer your stated question, when you have as little to do at times as I, my love, you tend to read many books, and some of those books told me exactly how to satisfy a woman."

"Then that knowledge was put to good use last night...I was satisfied. But...you only read them for Miss Daae, didn't you?"

He closes his eyes and exhales deeply. "At the time...yes. However, I went back over some of them for last night."

"Thank you."

"Kiera, you are my one and only. Please, forgive me for ever wanting Christine."

"You know I cannot be angry with you for long...if at all. We all make mistakes in life. No one is perfect."

"I'm glad you have the heart to forgive." He pulls me to him, then buries his face in my neck, nipping at my flesh.

"Calm down, mon chere. Who said that the coming night wasn't going to be a continuation of the last?"

"Oh? Aren't we fiesty..." He chuckles.

"Well, I wouldn't be alone in that category."

Later in the day, we go to Paris to see Madam and Anna. Erik, reaching around me, holds the reigns tightly and whistles for Caesar to go. Our conversations are short and music related. At times, we even discuss his newest works...how to improve them, titles, and if he should send them away to be published or not. I want him to have his music published and performed; he, though, thinks that it would be silly. He believes that his face will make the publisher bias and therefore reject the pieces.

"You are a great composer, Erik. It would be a crime not to let the world know."

"And to the world it would be a crime. They see things as the complete opposite of what you and I see it. Until everyone in the world has been put through the trials and tribulations you and I have suffered, they'll never understand," he argues.

I sigh. "You're right, but no harm ever came from trying."

"In this case, I have the feeling that harm would come from it. We are not liked throughout the city, Kiera. Only those with kind hearts who have been able to look past our outer appearance and gotten to know the people that we truly are care about us," he returns.

"You are right again. Perhaps if we did not stay near Paris; we could move to another city that knows little of the Phantom and Angel of Darkness. We could even leave the country...go to England, Italy, Rome, or Germany...or even the young nation across the Atlantic, the United States of America. I hear that they have quite pleasant weather. The sun shines more, and at some places, the seasons are well within reason."

"I'd remove the United States from that list. They've been in three wars in the last one hundred and fifty years. The first two were with Britain and the most recent, which they are still recovering from, was amongst themselves."

"War is something every country must deal with, but chere, they have the potential to be one of the greatest countries in the world. The northern states have many factories and the southern states grow the majority of the nation's food on plantations. They are organizing."

"The northern states there are also full of the same kind of people Paris is filled with. The south is hot and filled the roughians, and drunks."

"Oh, fine. The United States is off the list. What about England though?"

"Let's drop the entire subject for a while."

"Welcome, dears." Madam opens the door to the inn and immediately hugs us both. "Come inside. There's a couple here that you should meet."

We follow her into the den where Anna is sitting happily between a man a few years my senior and a woman about my age. Anna leaps from her seat and embraces me, leaving the couple dumbfounded.

"Auntie and Uncle, this is Kiera and Erik. Kiera took me in off the street and took care of me here with Madam Mardon. Erik is her husband; they were married yesterday and make a cute couple. Even though he looks...ummm...menacing...I think that's the word...with his mask, he is very kind. He plays games with me and taught me how to play a song on the piano. He and Kiera are the greatest musicians in the world."

"Well, I'm glad to finally meet you both. Anna has been going on about you since we arrived." Her aunt stands up and hugs me. "Thank you for taking care of her. I only wish we'd known sooner of the situation. You see, we'd gone to Australia for a while to visit my father-in-law and were not aware of it until we returned a few days ago."

"We've been looking all over for her, and today, having seen the poster in the police station, we decided to ask Madam Mardon if she knew anything of Anna. As luck would have it, we find her here...alive, well, and happy. You all have our gratitude." The man with her stands.

"And forgive us for not introducing ourselves. I am Arriela Leferve and this is my husband, Nikolas."

"I am Kiera Mardon."

"I'm Erik Mardon; Madam Mardon is my mother. And you said your last name was Leferve? Tell me, Monsiuer, is your father, by any chance, the same Monsieur Leferve who once owned the Opera Populaire?"

"Yes, but he moved to Australia after putting up with the Opera Ghost for so long. Why do you ask?"

"I had the pleasure of...working for him for a time."

"Oh. He never mentioned a masked man, but then again, he hardly spoke of the Opera after he retired."

"Auntie, are we going to stay for a while, or are we going to your house across town?" Anna inquires, tugging at her aunt's skirts.

"We need to be getting back. You should start saying your good-byes," Monsieur Leferve answers.

Anna's smile fades. "Au revoir, Kiera. Au revoir, Erik." She hugs us both for a long time, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I'll miss you so much."

"Don't cry; you've been returned to your family, as I promised."

"And all three of the Mardons may come and visit you any time they like. We are all in their debt." Her uncle consoles her softly.

"Yes. That will be nice. We'll come visit you soon." I hug Anna one last time and send her on her way with her aunt and uncle.

For the next six months, Erik and I live happily...almost like a fairytale; however, instead of a noble prince, Erik is a musical genius, and I...rather than a princess...am the moon goddess in mortal form with great musical talent...in the word's of my magnificent maestro. Every few days we climb onto Caesar's back and ride into Paris to see Madam Mardon and Anna, who greet us warmly with each visit. Erik is back to composing extraordinary works for violin, piano, organ, and even complete orchestras. Not only does he write music, but he has taken to designing extravagant buildings and other structures. I have taken on the role of the housewife...sweeping, dusting, washing dishes, making the beds...everything the common wife does. There is only one difference between me and the other simple women out there: my husband helps me with every single task no matter what he was doing before.

"Erik..." I call for him from outside the drawing room. "Erik, are you in there? May I come in?" I knock lightly. With no reply, I push down the handle and ease the door open, careful not to make any noise that might startle him. "Mon chere, you've been up here all morning; don't you think it's time for a break of some sort?" I keep my distance. I don't like to bother him when he's working hard on something...especially his building designs.

"Kiera..." He looks over his shoulder at me. "Why do you always stand on the other side of the room when you come in here?" he asks, turning completely around. "Are you afraid of me?" Worry consumes his eyes, as well as hurt.

"I'm not afraid of you, my husband; I'm afraid of my memories." I take new interest in the hardwood floor, avoiding eye contact with him.

"I believe an explanation is in order."

"When I was little...perhaps four years old..._he_ spent a lot of time in the drawing room. Being a toddler, I was curious about what _he_ was doing; so, I managed the open the door and get in. I crept over to his desk and began to study what exactly _he_ was doing. Once, I caught him writing a letter to Cassandra, the bitch who helped ruin what little happiness I still had left in the world after my mother's death. When I asked him about it, _he_ got angry and pushed me to the ground with a wide assortment of colorful words spewing from his mouth. My self-esteem plummeted after that and the level of fear I had for him rose a great deal," I explain.

"I would never treat you like that." He crosses the room to stand directly in front of me and raises my head until our eyes meet. "Surely you know that by now."

"I know." I lean against him. "You are a good man, Erik. I don't care what anyone says."

He puts one of his hands on the back of my head, the other on my back, moving it in a large circle. "Thank you." After a few moments of silence, he says, "I've been asked to design and oversee the work on a house, cherie."

"Really? For who?" I look up at him.

"Madam Giry's daughter, Meg; she is to be married soon, and she and her fiance would like to have a house to come to after their marriage. That's what I've been working on." He gestures towards the papers on his desk. "May I ask your opinion on them?"

I walk over to the piece of furniture and look closely at the parchment. "It looks quite magnificent...to be so small. That is another field you seem to excell in."

"Perhaps."


	8. Chapter 8

_Erik_

I wake before the sun rises and dress, leaving Kiera sleeping peacefully in bed. I must leave early to arrive at the Girys' for the meeting I am to attend with Antoinette, Meg, and her fiance, Michael. My normal attire is sufficient for the occassion, as well as my mask. Once I am fully dressed, I lean over Kiera and kiss her forehead. "Au revoir, m'ange. I'll be back soon." With one last look from the doorway at her still form, I close the door and go downstairs to retrieve my cloak.

Caesar is waiting at the stable door for me. I ready him for travel and set out towards Paris. I wish to arrive at the Giry residence before the streets are crowded with pedestrians who will likely scream in fear if they see my mask and run to the nearest gendarme to have me arrested.

"Erik, come inside." Antoinette opens the door and allows me in, taking my cloak. "Meg and Michael are in the den waiting. I trust you brought your designs?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Antoinette. Of course I brought them." I hold up the portfolio in my hand and smile. "Shall we?"

"Indeed. This way." She leads me into a pleasant little room filled by a small couch, two arm chairs, and several tables of varying sizes: a large, oval shaped one at the center of the room and two tall, square ones. One is beside the couch, the other inbetween the two armchairs. "Have a seat."

I sit down in the chair closest to the way out...just in case, for some reason, I need to make a quick escape. "Meg...Michael." I nod to them.

"Bonjour, Erik," Meg returns.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." Michael stands to shake my hand, then sits back down.

"I've brought what I've come up with from the description you gave in the letter." I lay the folder down and take out the sketches, sliding them across the coffee table to the couple.

"It looks marvelous, Erik. You've done an excellent job. As far as I can see...there's nothing I think should be changed...at least on the exterior." Meg looks to her fiance. "What do you think, dear?"

"I agree. Monsieur Erik read our minds for the exterior. May we see what you've concocted for the interior?"

"Yes." I pull out the papers with the sketches of the room layout and put them on the table. I am about to speak when a knock comes from the door.

"Who could that be?" Antoinette gets up, leaving Meg, Michael, and I to continue. "Good heavens!" she exclaims suddenly. "Meg, child, look who is here!" Antoinette returns to view, along with another woman of about age eighteen. She has long, curly, chocolate locks, pale skin, lovely brown eyes, and a curvy figure.

"Bonjour, Meg." She hurries forward and embraces the bride-to-be.

My eyes widen at the sound of her voice...bell-like and clear...a trained soprano...Christine Daae. In a moment, I have risen to my feet and taken a step towards the door, leaving my designs.

"Ange de Musique?" She stops me.

"I do not know who you speak of." I take another step but am restricted by someone catching me by the arm.

"Erik...my angel...it is you!" she squeals.

"Not anymore, Madam de Chagney."

"What? But you said..."

"Meg, Michael, keep the drawings and think about them for a bit. I'm afraid I must go. Au revoir." I walk out the door and whistle for Caesar who comes trotting up from the alley. Mounting, I pat my friend on the neck and say, "Let's go home."

At my commanding whistle, he heads for our home. "We have to make a quick pitstop, my friend." I turn him down a dirt path towards some stables. "One that I think you'll like."

"Aww, Monsieur Mardon. Come to retrieve the mare, yes?" The owner meets me as I lower myself to the ground and take Caesar's reigns.

"Oui, Monsieur."

"I'll be back in a moment; I will get her." He hurries into the stables and returns holding the lead to a gorgeous grey mare. "Here she is, Monsieur Mardon; a magnificent beast. I'm certain your wife will adore her...as will your friend there." He hands the lead to me. "She's well behaved. You should have no trouble with her."

"Merci. You have your pay?"

"I recieved it yesterday. I thank you, Monsieur Mardon. Have a safe trip home."

I tie the mare's lead to Caesar's saddle and remount, setting off with the mare not far behind, towards home. Caesar already seems quite enthused by the lovely lady's presence. He continually glances back at her, veering off course. I turn him back in the correct direction and laugh. "You'll get a chance to see her all you want once we get home, my friend."

"There you are!" Kiera exclaims, stepping into the stables just as I usher Caesar back into his stall. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to get back."

"Good to see you, too, cherie," I tease. "Come over here; I have a surprise for you."

"And what might that be?" She strides over to me, her arms folded across her chest.

"Just look in the stall, there." I turn her so she is facing the stall across from Caesar's.

Her jaw drops. "Erik...I..."

"She's yours." I push her towards the door. "Go see her."

"Fine." She opens the door and steps inside. "Oh, mon chere, she's absolutely beautiful. What's her name?"

"I leave that to you." I join her in the stall. "What do you think?"

She thinks for a moment, stroking the mare's mane gently, who seems to be enjoying the attention from Kiera. "Persephone," she finally answers. "I think that name suits her." The mare whinnies in responce.

"As do I." I take my wife around the waist and pull her against me. "I must admit, I'm going to miss you riding with Caesar and me."

"Yes, but he won't have as much weight to haul around now. Not to mention, I think he already likes her. We'll have to give them some time alone together one day after she's settled and used to her new surroundings." She places her hands over mine and leans her head back. "So, how did everything go with the designs for Meg and Michael's house?"

"Fine..." I release her and turn away, exiting the stall and stables, walking quickly towards our home. "Everything went fine."

"You're lying to me, Erik. What happened?" She follows me to our room and stands in the center of the floor, hands on her hips, waiting for me to reply.

"Things were fine at first. Meg and Michael liked the exterior design and wanted to see the interior. When I pulled out the papers, there was a knock at the door. Antoinette answered it...and..." I take of my cloak and jacket.

"And what?"

"It was Christine." I look away from Kiera. When she gives no reply, I look back to where she had been, but she's disappeared. "Kiera?" I lower my head, no doubt she is upset that I was in the same facitlity as Miss Daae.

Shortly after this, I decide that perhaps a warm bath will calm my nerves and take my mind off the possibility that my wife is in a room crying or has run into the woods to express her emotions out of my view. I would go find her, but I am too ashamed for having even been touched by Christine. I sit in the warm water and try to relax, taking my mind off the day's events, allowing music to completely consume my thoughts.

"Erik..." Kiera steps into the bathroom. "I..." She sighs. "Would you care if I joined you?" she asks timidly.

"Not at all...after all...this tub is large enough for two people."

"Merci." She removes her clothes and settles down in the warm water at my side. She leans her head against my shoulder and closes her eyes, breathing deeply, allowing the water to frighten away the cold of the autumn night air. One of her hands eventually finds its way to my chest where it rests. "I'm sorry I ran off earlier. I was...I was just afraid that...that perhaps I'd lost you to her."

"We've been married for six months, Kiera. If I were still in love with her, do you think I would have remained with you for that long or even married you?" I take her hand in my own.

"I know, but the way you acted when..."

"I was afraid of what you'd say; I was afraid that you'd be angry with me," I interrupt. "I didn't want you to start thinking that I'd been with her, and that's why I didn't get back until later in the evening than I should have. I love you, cherie."

"I know without a doubt that you'd never been unfaithful, but..." She looks away. "The thoughts that you'd hoped to keep from my mind did come. I am ashamed of myself for allowing them to appear. Forgive me?" When her gaze meets mine again, tears have welled up to the brim of her dark eyes.

"I should have explained sooner, rather than giving those thoughts time to form. It isn't entirely your fault." I bring her lips to mine and savour the warmth and taste of them.

"You're a good man, Erik. I don't understand why my mind would ever draw such images."

"Hush now. That discussion is over; it's been settled. Enjoy the bath."

"Very well." She scoots closer to me and shifts down a bit to where her head is resting on my chest. "In the past six months we have not thought to do this. It is a good idea."

"I agree. We'll have to come in here together more often." I stroke her silver hair, wetting the dry strands with the water on my hand.

"Yes."

When the water starts to cool, we retreat from the tub and start to dry off. As I tie a towel around my waist, Kiera's arms wrap around me. I can feel her body pressing against my back, her warm breath on my skin. I turn around and look at her eyes, trying to figure out what exactly she's thinking. As I peer into her eyes, I can see the flame of desire dancing about wildly in them. I know precisely what she wants, and to be honest with myself, it's the same thing I want...atonement for our little spat. "As you wish, Madam."

In matter of seconds, our lips have met and the skin of our stomachs is rubbing together furiously. I guide her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. As her hands grope madly at my forearms and the back of my neck, my back collides with the wall. She's stronger than she looks. Only a moment later, I pick her up and carry her to the bed, falling onto the mattress with her beneath me. Yes, the redemption for arguments between spouses is very rewarding and quite pleasurable.


	9. Chapter 9

**WARNING:**** You may want to shoot me for this chapter. It contains kissing...kissing between the wrong people. Read and you'll find out who.**

_Christine_

I am horribly confused when Erik leaves. He's admitted his love for me...I know he loves me. I never thought he'd put me out of his mind after everything. I did love him, but a life in the cellars was not right for me. "Why has he left?" I ask Madam Giry.

"Christine..."

"He said he loved me..that he'd always love me. How can he simply stand up and walk out when I am before him again? Did I hurt him so badly?"

"Child, sit down. There is much that you are unaware of." Madam guides me to the chair beside hers and hands me a cup of tea. "Erik is no longer the same man you knew in the Opera. He has changed a great deal."

"He doesn't seem too different. His features are the same: his voice, his clothing, his attitude. What could have changed him in a year's time?" I sip my tea and stare at Madam, pleading for her to give me some sort of reason for him to have changed.

"It is said that women have a strange affect on men, Christine. You saw what happened to Erik and Raoul around you."

"Wait! Erik's seeing another woman? How? Who would love him? Is she at the Opera? Is he claiming to be the promised angel her father spoke of?" Questions flow out of my mouth at an apalling rate. "Is he using that hypnotically seductive voice of his to lure her in? Madam, you must tell me so I can inform the police and save that poor girl!"

"Christine Clarice!" Madam snaps, her arms folding across her chest like so many times before when I would mouth off at a younger age. "You may be an adult, but you'll not talk to me in such a way! Not so long as you are in my house!"

"My apologies, Madam." My cheeks turn a bright shade of red.

"Now..." She takes a deep breath. "To answer all of your questions...the woman I am speaking of is not at the Opera. In fact, neither is Erik. Christine, he is madly in love with this woman, and she loves him the same. I've seen it. No, he doesn't use his voice to seduce her; there is no need to. She loves him for who he is...not for whomever he may have pretended to be."

"What is her name?"

"Kiera Torque..."

"Reyer's favorite violinist? That Kiera Torque? The same one who played first chair for Don Juan?"

"Yes."

"How did they meet? Surely she didn't venture to the cellars before the performance. He would have killed her." My hands are trembling by now.

"Erik met Kiera long before you, Christine. They performed for the sultaness in Persia; Kiera was an acrobat and Erik, a magician. They shared the court's attention for two years and became good friends," Madam explains.

"How do you know all of this?" I sit my tea aside.

"He spoke often of her for quite a while, but when you came along, Kiera was shoved to the back of his mind...nearly forgotten. About a month after the disaster, I am told that Kiera went back to the Opera to retrieve her violin and heard him playing. She followed the music until she came to his home. As all good friends do after being seperated for such a long time, they talked for a while and caught up on how the other was doing."

"How did she manage to get past the traps and Erik's noose...if he used it," I inquire.

"Kiera is much like Erik...a tormented past, a passion for music, and a certain air about her that told you not to fool around with her a great deal. She could defend herself and would when necessary. She was also very mysterious and could find trapdoors and secret passages easily, so avoiding all those detours was a simple task. When she made it to shore, he did attack her with the lasso but never managed to get it around her neck without being blocked. She caught the lasso and fought back until he finally realized who she was," Madam continues. "To shorten things up, she's done much more for him than you, Christine."

"What do you mean? I was his inspiration for everything."

"For one thing, she didn't abandon him, hurt him emotionally, or drive him to the brink of insanity. In fact, she saved him from complete madness. He is a very level-headed man now."

"No...this can't be! He has to know that I love him! Where does he reside now? Or better yet, where does she reside? I will tend to her first. I shall tell her to keep away from him." I stand to my feet, my hands clenched in fists.

"I cannot tell you, Christine. Besides, it would do no good. They are married." Madam moves to stand in front of me.

"What? No!"

"Christine..." Meg takes my arm. "It's true. They've been married for six months now."

My thoughts begin to spin out of control. _Erik married...to Kiera...not me._ "I cannot believe this," I cry, tears welling up in my eyes. "How can he choose that...that hideous woman over me? He's lost his mind!"

"Christine, why do you care? You are married to Raoul now."

"Why? I still love Erik, that's why! I didn't have the courage to tell him then."

"Oh, my dear, you must forget about that now. You are too late. He is happily married, and I will not permit you to ruin their marriage simply due to your jealousy."

"Fine! But, tell me, why was he here?" I question, jerking away fom Meg. "What are those?" I point at the papers and portfolio on the table.

"Erik is building mine and Michael's house. Those are the designs. He came to show them to us and to discuss what we might change...if anything."

"Oh. Thank you." I calm...I now have a way to see him. I will go to the site and speak to him. "I'm afraid I must go." I quickly leave the house and climb into the coach. "Home, Sir."

_Erik_

Three months have passed. Work has begun on Meg and Michael's home, and I've neither heard nor seen anymore of Christine. For the moment, life is going quite well. I am married to a beautiful, loving woman, and I'm not longer living in a rickety house on a lake, wallowing in my despair.

"Kiera, cherie..." I whisper, shaking her gently. "Darling, are you coming to the site with me today?"

She narrowly opens her eyes and looks up at me. "Yes," she says, stifling a yawn. "I am."

"Good. I can't wait for you to see how it's coming." I get out of bed and begin to dress after washing my face with some cold water.

Kiera splashes her face several times before stepping behind the changing screen with her clothes for the day in hand. A few minutes later, she reappears in a brown skirt and white blouse. Sitting down at her vanity, she inhales deeply and closes her eyes.

"Kiera, are you feeling well?" I pull on my jacket and go to her, putting my hand on her forehead. "You feel a bit feverish. Perhaps you should stay home and get some rest. I don't want you out and about if you're sick."

"I'm fine. It's just nerves...and I'm still a bit tired." She pushes my hand away and starts to arrange her hair. "Will you saddle Persephone for me, dear? I'll be down shortly."

"Very well. Don't be too long. I like to get there early." I step into the hall. "And are you certain that what you're feeling is just nerves and tiredness?"

"Yes." She picks up a pin and puts it in her hair. "I thought you said you wanted to get there early. If you don't get to it, I'll be done before you've gotten the horses ready."

I laugh and comply. "Fine, fine, fine. I'll be done before you come down."

_Something is wrong with Kiera. She's not feeling well...it's as plain as day on her face. _My mind tries to come up with solutions to her ailment as I prepare Caesar and Persephone for travel. "A cold, perhaps. She's been out a good bit in this chilly weather."

"Ready to go?" Kiera steps into the stables; she still looks sickly. "Why do you stare, chere? It isn't as though you've never seen what's under my clothes, Erik." She giggles and takes Persephone's reigns. "Let's go."

I smile. "As you wish, Madam."

We don't talk much on the way to the building site. The only things that are said are but little drabbles...meaningless.

"Monsieur Erik!" Michael calls to us as we stop the horses. "And who might this lovely lady be?" He gestures to Kiera.

"Michael, this is my wife, Kiera. Ma cherie, this is Michael."

"Aww...yes. Your husband speaks of you often. It's an honor to meet the loyal lady of such a brilliant architect." He kisses the top of Kiera's hand.

"Well, it's certainly wonderful to meet the future husband of a great dancer like Meg. She's very talented." Kiera curtsies and then starts to look about at the workers arriving. "It seems quite a bit of progress has been made on your home, Monsieur."

"Oh...oui, Madam. Erik did a spectacular job of finding so many devoted workers. We're still on schedule, as hard to believe as that may be," Michael replies.

"I'm afraid I can believe it. Erik is very passionate about these things. He wants workers who feel the same way he does."

"Kiera!" Meg calls to my wife.

"Meg, how are you?" Kiera hugs little Giry. " Michael's a very good man."

"Merci. He is. Would you like me to show you about a bit?"

"I'd like that. Thank you. Au revoir, mon chere. I'll see you in a while." She waves to me and follows Meg.

"The've known each other for only a little over a year, and they get along famously. Women are so mysterious."

"I couldn't agree with you more, but they're worth the confusion," I return. "Now, I need to see how the framework for the storage building is coming."

"Very well. I've got to meet Madam Giry at the tailor's for a suit fitting...now that Meg has finally decided on her dress." He chuckles. "Did Kiera give you the same trouble?"

"No. She wore a simple evening gown that was given to her by my mother, and I wore my normal dress clothes. So, I'm afraid I wouldn't know exactly what your situation is like."

"Oh. Weren't you the lucky one. Well, I'll be off. Bon chance, Monsieur." He hurries away to a waiting coach.

I begin with an inspection of the storage building's framework and move on to simply see how everything else is coming. The house is now being bricked with red and brown blocks and the windows are being installed. It won't be long until all that's left will be to paint the inside walls and put down the hardwood floors. This small house is coming along very well.

_Kiera_

"Erik! There you are! I was hoping to find you here today!" I hear a feminine voice shout for my husband as Meg leads me around the outside of the small house.

"Meg, did you hear that?" I ask.

"Hear what?"

"I thought I heard a woman calling to Erik."

"I'm sure it's merely a workman with a high pitched voice," Meg assures me.

"Perhaps." Just as we are about to turn the corner to the front of the building, I stop Meg. "Wait! Listen."

"Christine, what are you..." Erik says.

"Oh, Erik, it's been so long! I missed you terribly!"

"Christine, please, I..."

"Mon chere, I've wanted to tell you this for so long. I love you!" the woman's voice exclaims.

"That sounds like Christine, but why would she be here?" Meg's expression turns...she appears to be pondering the answer to her own question.

"Christine..." Erik starts, but he is cut off.

"I have to know what's going on." I go around the corner to find my husband kissing Christine Daae. My heart stops for a moment, and my eyes widen. My trembling hands slowly move up to cover my mouth. The tears do not come until Erik finally notices me and pulls away.

"Kiera!" He goes around Christine, walking towards me hurriedly. "My love..." He takes my shoulders as the tears begin to stream down my cheeks. "It's not what it seems."

"How could you, Erik?"

"Kiera, ma cherie, please, I would never hurt you."

"Liar!" In a split second, I slap him across his left cheek. "You said you didn't love her anymore! You lied to me!" I jerk away and storm off. "You _**are**_ a monster!"


	10. Chapter 10

**You may hate me for this chapter too. Sorry! (runs away from rabid reviewers)**

_Erik_

"Kiera, no!" I reach out to her, but she's already too far away. "Kiera..."

"Christine, how could you do that?" Meg asks. "She's done nothing to you." After this, she hurries off to find Kiera.

"Don't worry about her, Erik, mon chere. You know you really love me." Christine puts a hand on my shoulder. "And just think, now things can go back to the way they were with her out of the way."

"Get away from me!" I pull away. "Things can never go back to the way they were, Christine! You're married to the Vicomte, and I'm married to Kiera. I love her more than I could ever love you. You've done nothing but hurt my wife and me. I had a wonderful life with Kiera until you came back into the picture, but now, my wife has slapped me, called me a monster, and ran off to God knows where! Madam de Chagney, I bid you farewell...FOREVER! And I promise you, should you ever rudely intrude into my life again, you will recieve much more than a thorough scolding."

"You can't do this to me, Erik! I loved you before she did, and you know it!" She yells after me, her voice cracking.

"No! I met and loved her long before you! Good day, Madam." I walk away in the direction Meg and Kiera went.

I find them both sitting under a willow tree. Meg is holding Kiera's hand and patting it, obviously trying to calm her down. I keep hidden and watch them. However, they are talking too quietly for me to hear, and the angle I see them from isn't good enough for me to read their lips.

_Kiera_

"Meg, what am I going to do? I've no where to go...no where to turn. The only thing I can do is go back to wandering around the country."

"Haven't you any friends or relatives in the city you can stay with? What about the lady at the inn you talked about over tea last week? Can't you stay with her again?"

"She's Erik's mother. I can't go there. I have no relatives; they're all either dead or don't know I exist."

"Friends?"

"No one at all, and what's worse is..." I pause. "I think I'm pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been sick to my stomach the past several mornings and my cycle stopped nearly three months ago. Meg, what will I do if I have a baby and we've no where to live?"

"Kiera...you'll have to stay with Erik. I know you'll find a way around what happened earlier. You should talk to him; I have a feeling that Christine kissed him...not the other way around." Meg sighs and then says nervously, "The baby is Erik's, isn't it?"

"How could you ever think something like that, Meg? Of course Erik's the father. He's the only one I've been with, but he doesn't want children," I retort.

"I'm sorry, Kiera. Still, I think it would be best if the two of you talked this out...for your baby's sake." She stands up. "I'll let you be alone for a while. I'm going to have a word with Christine."

_Erik_

Once Meg is out of hearing range, I come out of hiding. "Kiera..." I sit down beside her.

"Please, go away." She starts to stand up, but I take her hand and pull her back down. "Erik!"

"Allow me to explain what happened between Christine and me?"

"You'd better make this good. I won't sit here and listen for long."

I nod. "She came up to me and said she loved me. I tried to explain to her that I didn't feel the same way toward her, but she kept cutting me off. The next thing I knew, she was kissing me. It happened so fast, I wasn't sure what was going on at first. When I did realize that she was kissing me, I panicked on how to deal with the situation. Should I push her away or just wait until she stops? Then I saw you and broke away. Kiera, ma cherie, I would never hurt you. How many times must I say it? I love you with all of my heart," I explain.

"Look me in the eye, and tell me the truth. Do you still love her?"

I gaze directly into her black eyes. "No. She means nothing to me."

For a moment she simply stares back, searching my soul for whatever it is she needs to see. "You're a very good actor and liar. How can I believe you?"

My heart stops temporarily. "What? You've always believed me. I'd never lie to you."

"That was before I watched my husband kiss the woman that he constantly denies affection for." She stands up and walks towards Persephone. "I never thought I'd have to say this to you, but I feel I must. Don't come home tonight. Return to the Opera for the time being." She pulls herself up onto the saddle and without another word, she rides off towards our house.

I am still for a moment, but then the anger welling inside me starts to circulate faster and begins it's accent up my throat. I clench my fists and jaw, my eyes shut tightly, and my entire body begins to shake. Just as I feel I'm about to explode, I release my fury. "No!" I shout in a voice that contains none of the qualities of a well-trained tenor. I drop to my knees and pound the ground with my fists until I can feel a warm substance between my fingers and a tingling sensation throughout my hands. I look at the torn, blood-covered flesh and then fall forward in a sobbing heap of nothing more than a devastated man. "Kiera! Kiera!" I cry into the grass and dirt. "Kiera, please, forgive me!"

"Erik, perhaps you should leave the site for the day," Meg suggests. "I can't help but believe that you truly need some time to yourself."

"Meg, I'd rather stay here and try to keep my mind occuppied. If I go to the Opera...I might do something drastic. Please..."

"Monsieur, I..." She sighs and rubs her arm. "Very well. If that's what you want."

"Yes. It is." I stand to my feet, desperately attempting to regain my composure and dry the tears in my eyes and on my cheeks.

"First, however, I'll clean and bandage those cuts on your hands. You're no good if they get infected and you can't use your hands."

In a while, I'm about the site again, checking how things are coming, and my hands aren't quite as sore. The rest of the day drags by slowly, each passing moment spent only thinking of what Kiera is doing and trying to grasp what she is feeling. I suppose that she feels exactly the way I felt when I saw Christine and the Vicomte on the roof of the Opera...betrayed and furious.

When I arrive at the Opera, I lead Caesar down the corridors, to the stables where I had kept him. Continuing on to the lake, I stop at the shore and stare into the black water at a man I thought I'd never see again. A man who is utterly alone in the world; his face is tear stained, his hair unorderly, a frown of sorrow displayed upon his face. "Kiera," I sigh, still looking at my reflection in the lake. A tear falls into the water, rippling my image. A fit of anger comes upon me; I draw back and hit the water with all of my might, sending waves of cold liquid in every direction.

In the old abandoned house, I sit solemnly in the black arm chair and gaze longingly at the sofa, wishing Kiera was sitting in her normal place, smiling at me. Fresh tears find their way down my cheeks. Having grown sick of the view in the den, I move on to the music room, hoping that a bit of music will take my mind away from all of the day's events like so many times before. For a brief moment, I am content, but then I begin to play one of the many tunes Kiera played with me on countless occassions. _It's no use! Everything here reminds me of her and the pain I've just caused her!_ I let my head crash into the keys of the piano and sob again. "God, I love her so! Why did you have to bring Christine back into my life? I was happy! For once in my life, I was honestly happy! Is this the cruel punishment I must endure for what I've done in the past? I have to lose the woman I truly love?" I lean back and scream towards the heavens.

"Erik." A hand falls on my shoulder.

"Antoinette?" I turn about and stare at her sad face. "Why are you here?"

"Meg told me what happened today. I'm sorry. I should have known Christine was up to something. Especially after the conversation we had after you left that day."

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

"She got angry because you were married and wanted nothing to do with her. We tried to explain to her that you didn't love her, but she wouldn't let it go. When she asked us where you and Kiera lived, we refused to tell her. Apparently, she wanted to make Kiera stay away from you. Then, she asked why you were there. Unfortunately, we didn't see the possibility of her coming to the site; so, we told her. It's partially my fault. My apologies, Erik."

"I don't blame you; I blame myself. I should have walked away from Christine. Instead, I stayed and didn't do anything until I saw Kiera standing there in shock. Antoinette, I love Kiera with all of my heart and soul. I feel...empty and completely alone without her. She's my world." I bury my face in my palms. "How could I let all of this happen?"

"That's how love goes, mon ami. You have your ups and downs...and of course, the occassional, unavoidable, normal spats. In a few days, I believe things will be back to the way they were. You and Kiera will be happy again, and Christine will be forgotten. Now, I'm going to make some tea to settle your nerves a bit."

"You think of Christine as a daughter. How can you..."

"Defend you against her? Simple. What she did was wrong. Since she left with Raoul the night this place burned, you have done nothing to her. Not to mention, I think of you as a son, also." She puts the kettle over the fire.

Once the tea is done, she pours two cups and hands one to me. "Thank you, Madam." We sit and drink the tea in silence. "It's nine o'clock, Madam; you should be getting home."

"No. I'm not leaving you here alone."

"I'll be fine, Antoinette. Go home."

"Very well." She takes a few steps towards the door. "And, Erik, I believe Kiera is expecting a child. So, before you decide to do yourself harm, think about that baby." She disappears through the door and into the dark abyss.

I am speechless. _That would explain why she hasn't been feeling well._ "Who in their right mind could imagine the Phantom of the Opera as a father? Oh, God, I need to sleep on this." I stagger to my feet and head to the coffin. When I lie down, though, it feels different. After nearly nine months of sleeping in a soft bed with Kiera at my side, going back to sleeping alone in this thing seems so foreign. I try to sleep, but it's no use. So, I get out and drag myself to the guest room where I let myself fall onto the soft mattress and soon fall asleep.

_Kiera_

"Oh, Erik, why did this happen?" I lean against the window of our room and cry. "I know you were telling the truth! I know you were, but the sight of the two of you together made my heart ache terribly. I didn't know what else to say. It seemed right that I should tell you to stay away." I slowly shrink to my knees.

After several minutes of self-loathing, I come to my feet and go behind the changing screen to change into my night gown. As I am pulling the night gown down over my stomach, I stop and run one hand across my slightly swollen belly. It isn't too apparent yet, but it is enough that I can tell. "And I haven't even told your father about you, little one."

I crawl into bed a few minutes later and slide underneath the covers, shivering at their cold temperature. As it is January, it's still quite cold outside and being the only one in the bed doesn't help matters. I draw my knees upward, trying to keep warm until my body heat has warmed the surroundings. This process didn't seem to take so long when Erik and I were together, but now that I am alone, it seems to take an eternity. However, after some time, the sheets and covers are warm enough that I can settle down to some extent. It takes some time for sleep to find me, but it at last arrives, taking me into a wonderful world of blissful darkness.

Waking just as the first grey light of dawn is filling the air, I scramble from bed to dress. I must go to the Opera. There's not much telling what Erik will have done to himself. He's so hard on himself. I dress quickly; pulling on my wool gloves, and wrapping a thick, warm shawl around my shoulders, I hurry out to Persephone and saddle her with great haste. With no time to spare, I start her in the direction of the Opera Populaire.

Arriving in the alley, I guide Persephone down the corridors to the stables where I also find Caesar. He whinnies with excitement at the sight of his love. I've no need to worry about them wandering off; they're quite loyal. Then, I run towards the lake, searching frantically for the familiar dock and boat. Yet, when I finally stop on the dock, the spare boat is gone. "Dear God, how do I get across now?" I calm down and sort through my options. I can swim it and risk getting too cold and drowning, killing myself and the baby...or I can find a way around the lake. Though, to the extent of my knowledge, no such way exists.

I scower the walls on each side of the lake, hoping to find some trap door that will lead me to the other side. To my dismay, I find nothing. I must swim across...despite the risks. I strip down to nothing more than the wool dress I wear under my clothes. Unfortunately, it will weigh me down; I tear off the skirt at midthigh and dive into the water. I can't waste anytime.

At first, I do quite well, but then my limbs start to grow numb. I can't even feel my toes or fingers. I can see a faint light at a distance. "I...I...I'm...al...m...m..m..most...th...there." I kick faster, desperately trying to reach the light, but I cannot. My legs and arms give out. "Erik!" I scream with the little breath I have and succomb to the dark, freezing water.

"Kiera!" Someone calls my name just as a light appears above the water. I reach out to it as I slip further and further into the blackness. Suddenly, my descent is reversed; I'm being pulled up, and someone has hold of my arm. "Kiera, hold on!"

All I can see after a moment is the glow of a lantern, and I can feel the warmth of several blankets chasing away the chills that have overtaken me. "Where am I?"

"Hush," a gentle, soothing voice says. "Save your strength. We're almost there."

Only a short time passes before I can feel myself moving. My rescuer is carrying me somewhere. I do not know where, but I do know that I'm glad to be out of that horrid lake. The room quickly warms to a splendid level. Whoever is carrying me sets me down on a soft bed and begins to dry me off, wringing my hair out with their hands and wiping away the water from my skin. Next, this person begins to remove my dress. I smack their hand. "Get away from me, you pervert!" I cannot see them clearly as my vision is still quite blurred.

"You'll catch your death if you don't get out of these clothes. Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before." They continue to try to rid me of my clothes.

"Stop! I shall do it! Go away, whoever you are!" I order.

"Very well. Your dry garments are here on the bed, along with some more towels. I suggest that you lie down and get some rest once you've changed. You need it."

Once I've dressed, I lie down in the bed and sleep for a bit. I wake a few hours later, perhaps, still in the place I had been. My vision has improved greatly. "Hello?" I call out, opening the door to the room. "Is anyone here?"

"Glad to see you awake. I was so worried." I man robed in black, wearing a white mask appears.

"Erik? Mon chere, is it you?"

"Who else would you expect to find you in the lake? Of course it's me."

"Oh, mon chere, I'm so happy to see you!" I squeal, rushing into his arms.

"As I am to see you." He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. "What were you doing? Why in the world were you trying to swim across the lake? Even I can't make that journey with the water at the temperature it is." He leads me to the sofa and sits down beside me, handing a warm cup of tea to me.

"I was trying to get to you. The boat wasn't there. I was scared you had...well...you know what I mean. And I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday."

"Your actions were appropriate and expected, Kiera. I can't blame you. Besides, I'm the one who should be apologizing...well, not even that. I should be grovelling at your feet for forgiveness. I should have reacted faster than I did to the incident."

"Let's just drop what happened yesterday. We both know the other is apologetic, and that's all that matters. Am I right?"

"Yes." He looks down at his cup of tea and seems to be mulling something over. "Kiera, might I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I reply.

"Are you..." He pauses. "Madam Giry came by last night to check on me and said that she believed you were...expecting. I suppose I'm wondering if it's true. Are you?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? No, cherie, it's perfectly fine. Besides, I've actually changed my mind about being a father in the past months; it's a role I've yet to play. I've been a murderer, musician, magician, lover, fiance, husband, criminal, and soon I can add 'father' to the list." He embraces me warmly, sitting his tea aside. "I'm glad."

"Erik...I...I don't know what to say?"

"Maybe this will help with your answer." He pullls me closer to him and brings our lips together. "Now what do you say?"

"No other woman in the world is as fortunate as I am." He gives me a questioning look. I take his hands and kiss each of them. "I'm married to a man with more heart and soul than any other person on the planet, and the man I love more than life itself is the father of my child. What more could I want or need? I am happier than I have ever been in my life."

He smiles faintly and turns away. "Kiera..."

"Erik..." I turn his head towards me and meet his gaze. "Love doesn't lie. I would never tell you anything short of the truth."


	11. Chapter 11

_Kiera_

Five and a half months have passed since our last spat, and Miss Daae has not shown her poisonous face since. Erik and I are as happy as ever with our baby due in about two months. He tries to keep me from doing a lot, but as he's learned, it's nearly impossible. We still visit Madam Mardon and Anna quite regularly. When we told Madam of my pregnancy, she was absolutely thrilled. After recovering from the initial shock of the news, she embraced me warmly and congratulated Erik and I over and over. Anna and her aunt and uncle were overjoyed and told us not to be strangers once the baby was born. We promised we'd send them all news of the birth as soon as we could.

I wake to the baby's gentle kicking; it's become my wake-up call in the mornings. I laugh and sit up in bed. "I'm up, petite."

"Are you all right, Kiera?" Erik wakes and quickly gets up, scrambling around to the bed to kneel in front of me. "Is something wrong?" He takes my hands, worry consuming his lovely eyes.

"I'm fine. The baby's kicking woke me; go back to sleep if you like. I know you were up late last night." I kiss his cheek. "I'm going to make breakfast. I'll call if I need you."

"You scared me," he sighs.

"It's understandable, mon maestro. I know you don't want anything to happen to me, and that's why you worry. You are a good man, and a wonderful husband." I smile at him. "And by the end of July, you will prove to be a great father."

"Merci." He meets my lips briefly. "I am very tired still; I didn't get to sleep until the early morning hours."

"Then you can try to get some more rest."

"And you'll wake me if you need anything?" He puts a hand on my cheek.

"Love doesn't lie." He helps me to my feet. "Before I go back to bed, do you need any help getting dressed?"

"No. I can handle things myself, but I thank you for the thought." I cross the room to the wardrobe and take out one of the many dresses Erik made for me. It is designed to be tight around my breasts with a colored ribbon seperating the upper portion from the lower. The lower half is long and loose, draping over my large belly, barely dragging the ground. Today's is solid white with a golden ribbon. Once I've changed, I step out and put on the white, comfortable, flat-bottom shoes Erik designed and had made for me. After a while, my feet do get quite sore. I sit down at my vanity and pull my hair back in a bun as Erik sits quietly on the bed, staring at me.

"You really do like those dresses, don't you?" he asks.

"Yes. I'm glad you made them. Thank you so much, darling."

"You're very welcome. Remember, if you need me, do not hesitate to come and wake me."

"Not to worry. Now, go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake." I walk over to him, kiss his forehead, and leave him to catch up on the sleep he's missed.

Later in the morning, Erik meets me in the den where I am reading on the sofa. "Good morning, love. Well rested?"

"Yes. How are you?" He sits down beside me, wrapping his arms around me.

"Wonderful. " He moves his hands to rest on my stomach. "What have you been doing all morning?"

"Not much. I cooked breakfast, washed the dishes, and sat down to read." I lean against him and smile, putting my hands on top of his. "Your breakfast is on the table with a lid over it...if you're hungry."

"Merci." He begins to laugh as the baby kicks at his hand. "It doesn't seem real. I can hardly believe that all this is happening. I never thought I'd be a father."

"It is real." I turn my head and kiss his cheek. "Let's go for a walk after you've eaten your breakfast," I suggest.

"Very well. I'll have breakfast; then we'll take stroll." He walks to the kitchen and sits down at the table. "Still warm."

I giggle at the expression on his face. "Yes. Now enjoy. I'm going to read some more of my book; once you're finished, I'll wash the plate, and we'll be on our way." Smiling brightly, I walk back to the den to wait.

In about fifteen minutes, Erik steps into the den. "Shall we?" He holds out his hand. "I've already washed and put away the plate. We can go."

"Well, aren't you as quick as a wink. Thank you. I'll put my book away, and we'll be off." I close my book, marking the page, and leave it on the sidetable beneath the lamp.

Erik offers me his arm as we exit the house into the warm summer air. At first, we walk along the fence, looking for Caesar and Persephone, hoping to see if their little one has come along yet. "I wonder where they are. Surely she'd stay in the pasture to deliver."

"Let's check the stables. The two of them spend a lot of time there too."

Making our way back to the stables, we are guided by the regular bursts of pained naying. "She must be foaling." I quicken my pace, practically dragging Erik along with me. He walks faster to keep up with me. I release Erik's arm the minute we reach the door. Inside, I look to Persephone's stall, praying that she's all right. I open the top half of the door to find her cleaning in a solid black foal. "Erik, look." I motion for him to join me.

"What a beautiful, little foal."

"Indeed." I open the lower half and take a step forward, speaking calmly to my horse. "Good morning, Persephone. I was beginning to wonder where you had gone." I take another few steps as she stares at me through eyes as black as mine. For now, I avoid the foal, not wanting to upset the mother. I sit down and stroke her mane. "You have a gorgeous baby, Seph."

She whinnies happily in return and turns her attention to her infant, who is trying her hardest to stand on such wobbly legs. She falls the minute she finally stands, panting from the fright of taking a spill.

"Try again, petite." I use an encouraging voice. "Erik, Caesar and Persephone made the most beauitful foal I've ever seen."

"Yes. Now, where's the proud Papa. Caesar," Erik calls out to the white stallion from La Prophette. "I'd better go hunt him down, though it's hard to believe he'd leave her alone. I'll be back shortly, cherie. Take care while I'm gone." He disappears from the doorway calling for Caesar.

"Where in the world has your man gotten off to, Seph?"

Her expression changes as though she knows that I'm talking about Caesar. Sadness pools in her eyes. She gives a sorrowful whinny and looks away.

"Seph?" A high pitched nay draws my attention to the little one. Having at last conquered standing on all fours, she begins to walk. She falls several times, but manages to walk around Persephone to stand in front of me. "Well done, petite." I hold out my hand, but she has already come forward to nuzzle my cheek with her wet nose. I laugh. "You are indeed a very sweet foal." I stroke her short, messy mane, trying to decide on a name. "What shall we call you? A greek name like your mother, perhaps."

The answer is a gayful whinny.

"Good. Let's see, since you are black we could call you Eris...but you are far too gentle. Aphrodite just doesn't seem apporpriate for you. Hera never was too kind. Artemis wasn't the lovable type. Athena perhaps...you seem to have enough drive and determination to meet the name's standards. What do you think?"

Both Persephone and the newcomer whinny in response.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. Athena it is. Now we have Caesar, the great ruler, Persephone, Hades' blooming flower in the dark abyss, and Athena, the warrior who should not be underestimated."

"I can't find Caesar anywhere, Kiera. I believe he may have been stolen." Erik reappears, breathing heavily.

"What led you to that conclusion?"

"Well...I found an extinguished torch in the field by the fencing along the forest. A section large enough to fit a large animal like Caesar through has been cut out of the fence, and there are numerous tracks of both men and horse leading into the bowels of the forest."

"Oh, no. Erik, we have to get him back. Persephone will waste away to nothing if we do not; she loves him dearly, mon chere."

"I know. I'm going to follow the trail for now...just to get an idea of who and what we are dealing with. I'll only take my noose...in case I run into trouble. If I find Caesar, I will come back to get my pistol."

"I'm going with you."

"No. Kiera, I'll not risk you or the baby. Stay here to keep an eye on Persephone and the foal."

"No! Erik, I'm going with you! I refuse to simply sit inside and worry about you!" I order, storming out of the stall to stand directly in front of him, staring angrily into his eyes.

"Fine. If it will keep you calm. The last thing we need is you to go into premature labor. Let's go."

I lock Athena and Persephone in the stall and close both doors. Then, we set out in search of our stolen animal. I walk close to Erik's side, scanning the trees and brush for any sign of Caesar. I try not to laugh as our child kicks gently...silence is best for the time being.

"The tracks lead into the clearing, cherie." Erik stops me and moves forward. "Stay here for a moment; I'll go first and return for you if all is safe."

I nod and watch as he takes each step cautiously, turning his head side to side, searching for the slightest movement in the grass and what few, small bushes scatter the ground. He disappears over a hill for a short time and comes back in a slow-paced run. "You must come see this." He takes my hand and leads me through the clearing to the top of the hill.

My eyes widen at the sight below. A large encampment with several multicolored tents and flags flying above them. "Gypsies," I state.

"I have a feeling they're the ones who took Caesar. Let's go find out." He again takes my hand and guides me down the hill, careful not to go too fast. "Are you sure you want to continue on with me, Kiera?" He comes to a hault just outside the camp.

"Yes. We have to find Caesar. Athena and Persephone need him."

"Very well."

"Can I 'elp you two?" A rugged man with a shaggy beard and mustache approaches us. "Lookin' for some amazin' sights, are we?"

"Certainly, Monsieur," Erik replies.

"Aw...good. I think you and your lady here will greatly enjoy some of our attractions. This way...follow me." He opens the flap of the first tent and steps inside, Erik and me at his heels.

The first few scenes aren't very entertaining...they're rather disturbing. A heavy-set woman with a beard, a boney man pulling his eyelids away from his eyes, and another man sticking flaming torches in his mouth. I cling tightly to Erik's arm.

"I could make your baby disappear from within you for a fee," a filthy woman sneers.

"No!" I gasp, pulling myself closer to Erik.

He puts his arm around me as we enter another tent. This one is dark and dreary with an iron cage placed at the very center. A banner above it reads: Le Mort.

"That's what they called me," Erik says softly. "It would appear that they've found a replacment since I got away."

"Yes." I release his arm and walk up to the cage. In the far corner, hiding in the shadows is a dark figure. "Hello?"

I am answered by a spasm of coughing and pained moans. "Go...away!"

"Please, let us see you," I say calmy.

"No."

"Why won't you come out?" I ask.

"Because you'll just laugh...like all the others."

"What's so funny about you being in a cage?"

"It's not that. My face is different...deformed."

"We've seen deformities before, beau. In fact, my husband was born with one and went through exactly what you are now."

The dark figure moves a bit. "Really?"

"Yes." Erik comes to my side. "They called me Le Mort while I was in that cage as a boy."

"And you're married?" he asks.

"Yes, and my wife and I will soon have a child. All isn't lost, little one; whether you believe it or not, there are kind and beautiful women out there who will love you with whatever disfigurement you have. If I, a supposed monster and murderer, can be in love and be loved in return to the point of marriage, so can you." Erik continues trying to coax the boy out of the shadows.

"Will you promise not to laugh if I come out?" the boy inquires in a wavering voice.

"We promise."

Atlast, we can see two legs boney legs and arms, a torso, and face...what's left of it. The poor thing has a cleft pallet. His top jaw is seperated in two up to his nose. His eyes are red and bloodshot from crying, no doubt. His hair is a messy, red mop on top of his head.

I cover my mouth at the sight of him and kneel down. "Poor dear. I'm sorry."

"They don't let you wear a bag or something over your head when you're not on display?" Erik questions.

"No, Monsieur." He's quiet for a moment. "Is your wife afraid of me?"

"No, beau. I don't think so."

"Of course not. I'm just angry that you are treated so terribly for something that could be repaired by doctors, and yet you are locked in a cage and beaten for the amusement of people who think they're better than everyone else." I take hold of his hand to find it covered with a warm, sticky substance. I turn it over to find the palm covered with blood. "What is your name?"

"Donato."

"Donato...a nice name. Where are you bleeding from? Are you hurt?"

"My stomach hurts a lot. My keeper kicked me in the stomach last week, and it has hurt badly ever since. I also cough up blood." After this passes his lips, he begins to cough and gag savagely. He covers his mouth with the other hand.

"Let me see your other hand." Kiera takes his hand and looks at it. This hand's palm is also covered in blood...but only since he began this last spasm. "You're coughing up blood," she says in a surprised tone. "Erik..." She turns her gaze to me. "He's bleeding internally."

"His stomach is filling with blood, and since it's been a week since the injury, there isn't much we can do for him. He won't last much longer"

"What's wrong? Am I going to die?" Donato comes to tears. "Madam? Monsieur? Will I get to grow up?"

"We're going to get you out of here, Donato." I decide this and pull a pin from my hair.

"Kiera!" Erik exclaims through his teeth, taking hold of my arm. "We haven't the means to successfully break him out of this place. Unless you have two horses under your dress, we've no transportation fast enough."

"That's all right," Donato says quietly. "I understand."

"How long will you be here?" Erik stoops down after looking about to make certain no one is watching us. "Do you know?"

"For the next week, I believe. Why?"

"We're going to gather what we need to get you out, and then I'm going to come back for you tomorrow."

"What do you mean 'I'? I'm coming, too." I am quite taken aback by his decision.

"Cherie, all of this walking about is not good for you and the baby. I'm sorry, my dear, but I can't allow any harm whatsoever to come to either of you. You will stay home. That's final."

I open my mouth to protest, but his stern glare silences me. I lower my gaze to the ground.

"Donato, tell me, do you know of a white stallion that's just been brought in?"

"They brought one today. He's a fine animal. The pen is just outside my tent...through that flap." He points to the back of the tent. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I have a feeling that's our horse."

"Then you must retrieve him and get back home soon. I'll wait for you tomorrow. I can't wait to be free. Au revoir and bon chance." He waves frantically as we exit at the back quietly.

"Caesar..." I call softly, not wanting to alert the camp's meaner occupants of our presence.

The white animal immediately responds and comes to the gate. Erik opens it and, climbing up a bit on the fence, mounts; then he offers me his hand from where I am standing on the fence, and pulls me onto Caesar's back. He nudges him gently in the side and we're off, moving away from the camp in great haste.


	12. Chapter 12

_Erik_

When we at last return home, I am the first to set foot in the yard. I turn to help Kiera down, taking hold of her upper arms, holding her steady as she slides off Caesar's back. "Sit here until I put him away; I'll help you inside when I get back."

She sits down on a bail of hay and plants her face in her palms, sobbing quietly. She seems greatly upset about leaving young Donato at the camp for another night, but it was necessary. Kiera has a bigger heart now than she ever did. Perhaps it's because she'll be a mother soon.

I guide Caesar into the stables and turn him into the stall with Persephone and Athena. Seph meets him gleefully, but the little filly shies away, uncertain of who he is. With a command from her mother, she moves forward and meets her father for the first time. Caesar seems very happy with his daughter, grooming her mane and face. "He'll be a good father. Hopefully I can be the same." I sigh, reaching out to my wife. "Come. We'll get you inside and off your feet."

She is slow to stand. The extraordinarily long walk we took has finally taken its toll on her, and carrying around the baby's extra weight is something she's not used to. She's utterly exhausted.

"That's it; you'll not take another step." I pick her up and carry her inside, careful not to hit her head on anything. I lower her down in bed and take off her shoes. "Please, relax and get some rest." She simply nods as I massage her feet; no doubt they're quite sore.

"You will be an excellent father," she says suddenly.

"What?"

"You said earlier that you hoped you could be a good father, and you will be," she replies. "I believe that with all my heart."

"And you will prove to be a most wonderful mother."

"Merci." She lets a long yawn escape her. "Pardon me. Who knew something that was once so simple could grow so tiresome when you add the weight of a baby to your stomach? Not to mention the enormous bump you get." She laughs slightly, another yawn stopping the laughter. "I'm grateful that you take such good care of me, Erik. Where would I be without you?"

"You could be a lot of places. Dead in Persia, dead at the bottom of the lake under the Opera..."

"Very well. I get the initial idea. I'd be dead without you." She releases a giggle. "I'm going to try to take a nap. Go do whatever you wish."

"If you need anything at all, call for me. I think after this last stroll, you need to stay off your feet."

"After thirteen months of marriage, you should know by now, getting me to stay in one place for long is quite impossible." She smiles at me. "I will call for you if need be."

"Sleep well." I kiss her forehead and leave the room, closing the door to block any noise I make while doing whatever it is I find to content myself with. "Now, what in the world am I going to do?" I extend my arms out to the sides and then let them fall to my side. "If I play any music, I could disturb Kiera, and I certainly don't want that. Perhaps I'll draw." I walk slowly to the drawing room and sit down at the desk. Taking out a blank sheet of parchment and a thin stick of charcoal, I begin to sketch the outline of my wife's body.

After a while, I've drawn and shaded the image of Kiera kneeling beside Donato's cage, grasping his hand as the shadows continue to consume him. I take out my pocket watch and look at the time...six o'clcok P.M.. I decide it is best if I check on Kiera. Rising to my feet, I stretch a bit and set out to our room.

I open the door to find her sitting up in bed, both hands resting on her stomach, a smile across her face. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, mon chere, the baby has the hiccups. Please, come feel before they go away." She reaches out towards me. "Please."

I nod and cross the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I rub her belly for a moment and let my lips curl into a vague smile; once I've stationed my hand, I begin to feel the motion caused by each hiccup. I chuckle at this. Only a few moments later, the hiccups cease and all within my wife's womb grows still. "Despite that, it's still hard to believe that there is any form of life in there, Kiera."

"I know what you mean. It is rather difficult to think that within two weeks, we'll have a child of our own. Soon, I'll be hollow again, and it will be easier to walk and stay on my feet for long periods of time." She takes my hand and brings it to her lips. "Think of it, Erik. A child we will raise with a love for music and compassion for those less fortunate and mistreated." She sighs. "I can't wait until our little one has arrived; though, I'm quite nervous about delivery. The casualty rate of women dying in childbirth is nothing compared to what it used to be; however, I can't help but be fearful of what's to come."

"I have faith in you. You'll come through with flying colors and be back on your feet by the next day."

"We'll know soon enough." She looks away, tears coming to her eyes. "I hope we aren't too late."

I know she's referring to Donato. "I hate to be so...gloomy...but...as much blood as he was coughing up today...he won't last long."

"Please...don't speak of it."

The next day I wake early and leave as quickly and quietly as possible. I won't risk Kiera waking, then demanding to go along, too. After yesterday, she doesn't need to be on her feet so much.

I ride on Caesar's back towards the camp, but before I arrive, I find a dead body lying in the grass. I dismount and kneel beside the corpse...Donato. He's covered in blood, and there is a bullet hole in his chest. I check his pulse...just to be certain. He's gone. I pick him up with a heavy sigh and drape his tiny body over the saddle. My journey back is slow, quiet, and sorrowful. I can't decide on how exactly I will inform Kiera of the boy's death. She'll be absolutely devastated.

"Erik? Is that you, mon chere?" She runs out into the yard. "Where's Donato?" Her eyes move to the body on the saddle. "No," she whispers, bringing her hand to her mouth.

"I'll get started on the coffin. Will you be all right cleaning him up?" I lift the boy's body and carry him towards the stables.

"Yes. I'll be fine." She follows me into the stables and takes a rag from a small bucket of water and begins to wipe the dried blood from young Donato's face and hands.

I go outside to begin building the coffin. It's finished in only a few hours, and I've at last dug the grave at the edge of the forest. By now, Kiera is sitting on a bail of hay staring off into the distance. "Kiera, cherie." She looks up at me. "All that's left is to bury him."

She nods and walks down to the grave with me. Once the coffin is out of sight and the dirt is packed, Kiera sits on the ground, gazing at the grave. "He didn't deserve to die. He was just a boy. I wish we could have done more for him."

"I know, but we all must die at some point." I put my hand on her shoulder. "I'll be back in a moment. I've got to get the cross I made for him. Will you be all right here without me?"

"Yes."

Back at the stables, my mother is just arriving. "Erik, mon beau!" She hugs me. "Why are you so filthy? And where's Kiera?"

I take a deep breath. "We found a dead boy in the clearing several miles from here. Kiera is sitting beside his grave...at the edge of the forest. I'd like if you'd keep her company until I find where I put the cross we are going to use as a grave marker."

"I'll go right now." She disappears out of sight. Shortly, I hear her scream, "Erik!"

I drop the cross and fly to Donato's grave where my mother is cradling Kiera's head. "Oh, my God! Kiera, ma cherie!" I pick her up and start towards our home.

She opens her eyes a bit. "Erik...it's time."

"I thought you still had two weeks."

"It's early...or...Doctor Crenoix misjudged. Either way...the baby's coming."

In only a brief time, I've laid her in bed and removed her shoes, covering her with a blanket. "Mother, what am I to do? I'm far too warey of leaving the two of you here, especailly with that band of gypsies so close."

"The only thing we can do is to hold our own until Ariella, Nikolas, and Anna arrive. Ariella is a midwife and will be able to help. Until then, we will both stay with her. It shouldn't be too long." Mother pats my hand. "Stay at her side, my son; I'll fetch a bowl of cool water and a rag to place on her forehead." She leaves the room to retrieve all that she has said.

I sit on the edge of the bed and hold tightly to my wife's hand, stroking her hair as I sing quietly to her.

"Your voice never ceases to sooth me, darling." Her eyes open, her gaze settling on me.

"How is the pain?"

"It comes in waves, but it isn't too unbearable. Though, I know it will get worse." She brushes her finger tips against the skin of my left cheek.

"Ariella will be here soon. She is a midwife; she will take care of you, and I will be outside, praying for your safety and the child's." I kiss her forehead.

"I pray it goes quickly; I do not think I can bear to lie here, writhing in agony from the pain, for eight or nine hours, but I will endure, no matter how long." She closes her eyes and squeezes my hand until the pain has passed. A tear slides down her cheek as she reopens her eyes. "Will you sing for me?"

"You know I will."

By the time my song ends, Mother has returned with a basin of water and a wrag. At her side is Ariella Leferve. Ariella comes to Kiera's side, taking my place, and rests a hand on her forehead. "I will take good care of her, Erik. However, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

I nod and leave the room. "Be strong, Kiera," I say before closing the door behind me.

"Come downstairs with Uncle Nikolas and me, Erik!" Anna takes my hand and pulls me towards the stairs.

"Perhaps later, Anna. I'm going to wash up. You and your uncle make yourselves at home." I smile and go to the guest bathroom to bathe. The entire time, my mind is on Kiera. God knows I'd go insane if I lost her.

Having put on some clean clothes, I start towards the stairs, but I stop at the door of mine and Kiera's room. I press my ear to the door and listen. All I can hear is the pained moans of my wife and Ariella saying inaudible words to her in a soothing voice. I sigh and continue on downstairs to join Nikolas and Anna.

"I wouldn't worry too much about her, Erik," Nikolas says as I step into the den.

"What do you mean? Why shouldn't I worry about her?" I am taken aback by his words.

"Kiera is a strong woman. After everything she's been though in her past, delivering a child should be no trouble for her," he explains.

"This isn't the same, Nikolas. There are numerous things that can go wrong. She could bleed out, it could be a breach birth, the cord could strangle the baby." I sit down and bury my face in my palms. "Anything could happen."

"Erik...she'll be fine."

"Erik, what are you and Kiera going to name the baby?" Anna asks, changing subjects...whether randomly or intentionally.

"I don't know. We haven't really discussed it. Why don't you think of a name, Anna," I suggest.

"If the baby is a boy, I think his name should be 'Erik'... after you."

"After me?" I question.

"Yes. Afterall, you are his papa, and he'll probably look like you," she answers.

I laugh. "We'll see."

A scream suddenly echos from upstairs, startling us all. I sigh and whisper, "Kiera."

After about twenty five minutes of utter silence, Anna asks, "Uncle Nikolas, is Kiera going to be all right?" She moves to sit down beside her uncle.

"Of course she is. Soon we'll all be able to see her and the little one."

"Is Erik going to be all right, too?" I hear her whisper.

"Anna..." Another pained scream cuts him off.

"You'll have to forgive me, but I've got to find something to occupy my mind." I get up and start towards the stairs, but I am stopped by my mother halfway up the flight. "Mother...how is she?"

"I was just coming to see hwo you were holding up and let you know how she's doing."

"And?"

"She's fine; though, I suppose her screams worried you?"

"Absolutely. Is she at all close?"

"She still has some ways to go. The contractions are becoming more and more painful for her, but they're still at least half an hour apart. We suspect it will be several more hours before she's ready to deliver. I'm sorry to have to tell you it will be so long, but be glad she is still well."

"Thank you, Mother. Tell Kiera that I love her."

"I shall. I'll bring you word of her again shortly." She returns to the room and closes the door.

Every hour, either my mother or Ariella comes to me with news of my wife. I, in turn, forward it to Nikolas and Anna as Kiera's screams come more regularly and with shorter intervals inbetween.

By nine o'clock P.M., Anna is asleep on the sofa, and Nikolas sits in the chair, slumped over, sound asleep as well. I check on them every now and then, but for the most part, I sit ouside the bedroom door, measuring the time in between my wife's screams. Only about a minute and a half separates them now.

"With each contraction, Kiera, until it passes," I hear Ariella instruct.

All grows quiet, except for the occassional moan or brief cry. I sob quietly, giving in to the overwhelming worry for my family. Only a short time later, a new sound penetrates the silence...a gurgled, high-pitched wailing. I hurry to my feet and listen intently as realization hits me.

"Erik..." Ariella steps out wearing a blood-covered apron. "You can come in now. I'm sorry it took so long to let you in, but we decided to go ahead and clean up so you could spend more time with your family." She steps aside and allows me to pass through the doorway into the well-lit room.

My mother walks past me, smiling, and says, "Congratulations, son. She did well."

I wait until the door has been closed before I look to Kiera. She is sitting up in bed, her knees bent slightly, holding a bundle of cloth in front of her. I can see that there are tears in her eyes, trickling down her cheeks; they are joined by the beads of sweat slowly gliding down the skin of her cheeks. Her attention is focused solely on the little one in her arms; she does not notice that I am now standing at her bedside.

"Good evening, Erik." She finally looks up at me. "I hope you didn't worry too much."

"I did my share, believe me."

"Meet your son." She places the child in my arms gently, smiling brightly. "He favors your already."

I look at her for a moment and then look down at the newborn resting quietly in the crook of my arm. I push back the cloth shielding a bit of his face. I expect to find some sort of distortion, but all I find is smooth, delicate skin. "He doesn't have my deformity," I sigh in relief.

"No, but he still looks like you. Your mother agrees. Just look at his hair and eyes. They're your's."

I sit on the bed and look down at my son again. I find that our hair color is the same. "How could you tell eye color? Infants don't usually open their eyes immediately after birth."

"He did. The moment they laid him in my arms, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Speak to him, and he'll open his eyes."

"What do I say to a newborn? He can't understand me."

"Introduce yourself."

I swallow hard; introducing myself to a newborn who can't comprehend a word I am saying seems rather...pointless. However, I am curious of what color eyes he posesses, and I don't want to let Kiera think I don't believe her. With a deep breath, I begin, "Hello, petite. I'm your father."

As soon as I have finished, his eyelids lift, revealing my eyes. "You were right," I gasp.

"How often am I not?" She laughs. "There will be no mistaking him for another man's child; he is yours...through and through."

"His eyes will change. All infants are born with blue eyes; they'll probably change to some other color...some mixture of black and blue...perhaps a deep, dark brown."

"No. They will stay the same color as yours...besides a mixture of black and blue would be purple and I doubt such an eye color is possible. He'll keep your lovely eyes."

I simply give in to her argument...it's pointless fighting with her. Looking back down at the babe, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips, pleading to be released as I continue to stare down at the fragile being in my arms. "I agree." My lips at last curve into a wide smile of pride. I have a healthy son and wife...what more could I want?


	13. Chapter 13

_**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own any of the original POTO characters or the song in this chapter. It is from the animated movie, Tarzan. However, I do own the following: Madam Mardon, the last name 'Mardon', Kiera, Erik Donato, Ariella, Nikolas, Anna, and the gypsy boy Donato.**

_Erik_

"What shall we name him, mon chere?" Kiera inquires, her fingertips caressing our son's soft cheek.

I think for a moment. "This morning you said you wished you could do more for Donato. Why not name our son after him?"

She looks away for a moment, deep in thought. "Very well, but I should like his first name to be 'Erik'. Anna requested last week that a boy be named after you. So...Erik Donato."

"I think it suits him. Though, we will have to call him by his middle name or come up with a nickname so as not to get the two of us confused."

"We can address him by his middle name."

Little Donato suddenly begins to cry. I look to Kiera.

"He's probably hungry; I'm certain he'll go to sleep afterward." She takes him and rocks him gently, making sure he isn't just crying because he's frightened or cold.

"I'll leave you to nurse him, and you both need your rest." I stand, kiss the top of her head, and leave, a smile still on my face. I'm a father...and a proud one at that.

"Here he is," Ariella stands, gesturing towards me. "They want to know about Kiera and the baby. Why don't you tell them?"

I nod. "They're both fine."

"Was it a girl or boy?" Anna squeals.

"A boy. Kiera insists he favors me. He has the same color hair and eyes as I, but no deformity. Thank heaven."

"That's splendid news, Erik. What did you name him?" Nikolas straightens up in the chair, curiousity beaming in his hazel eyes.

"At Anna's request, his first name is 'Erik', and due to the loss of a young boy we met yesterday in the same gypsy fair I was in, his middle name is 'Donato'," I say, waiting for them to ask more about Donato. "But I'm afraid I will not go into detail on that tragic story...not right now at least."

_Kiera_

I watch as Erik leaves, a wide smile still lingering on his lips. He seemed so dumbfounded at first by the sight of his son, but that all melted away rather quickly. The way he held our newborn, you'd easily think he was a delicate pane of glass that would shatter into a million pieces if dropped. Few would believe that a man who once murdered three people and terrorized an opera house's occupants, would have the capacity to handle anything so delicate, so carefully. However, Erik proved those nonbelievers wrong. He cradled the baby in his arms and kept him close to his chest, not wanting to drop him.

Once my husband has left the room, closing the door behind him, I unbutton the top of my gown I'd changed into after Erik brought me upstairs after my spell at Donato's grave, and let my son nurse until his stomach is content. I smile down at him as he suckles. He is nothing short of a miracle. "You look so much like your papa, Donato; you're very handsome," I say to him.

He stops nursing and looks up at me through his father's bright, beautiful eyes. He coos and reaches out a bit. I lower my index finger into his palm and allow him to grasp it firmly as exhaustion begins to take it's affect on his tiny body. The lovely eyes he recieved from his father disappear beneath his eyelids, his chest begins to move a bit slower up and down, indicating that he is relaxed, and he stops moving his hands. Donato is asleep for the first time since his birth only half an hour ago.

"Welcome to the world, mon petit. It may seem a bit cruel, but I assure you it can be a most splendorous place." I kiss his forehead and carefully rise from bed to lie him in the cradle only a mere two steps from the bed. "Sweet dreams, my son." Having pulled a baby quilt over him and buttond the top of my dress up again, I lie back down and drift to sleep. I, too, am unbelievably tired. The Sandman finds me easily, opening the gates to the Kingdom of Dreams.

Donato's cries wake me several hours later. No doubt he's hungry again. I crawl from bed, a bit stiff after so many hours lying on my back, and pick him up from his cradle. Having nursed and rocked him back to sleep, I put him back in the crib, but instead of going back to bed myself, I decide to walk about a bit, once I've closed my gown again. Putting on my housecoat, I creep out of the room and to the music room, but it is empty. The entire second floor is empty. I slowly descend the stairs and make my way into the den. A few coals are still glowing in the fireplace, but all flames have died out. All of the chairs are empty, as well as the coat rack. _Anna, Ariella, Nikolas, and Madam must have gone home._

Asleep on the sofa, I discover my dear Erik. I sit down on the edge and stroke his hair. He's removed his mask and wig, so my fingers trace the lines of the scarring.

Suddenly, a vice tightens around my wrist. I gasp and look to my hand. Erik's large hand is now clamped around my wrist. His eyes open slowly, his gaze settling on my face. "Kiera..." He straightens up and releases me. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"The baby woke me, but after he went back to sleep, I decided to come check on you," I answer. "I'm assuming everyone else went home?"

"Yes." He stifles a yawn. "I'll escort you back upstairs. You need your rest."

"Only if you stay with me."

"The sofa suits me for now."

"No," I say through clenched teeth. "It's hard to sleep without you there. Besides, I don't like you sleeping alone, with your unpredictable nightmares. I want to be able to sooth you."

"You're too kind. Please, you will have the bed to yourself tonight."

"Erik Andrew Mardon." I'm getting rather irritated with him. "You are coming to bed with me."

He seems somewhat shocked that I'm being so stern. "I wouldn't expect a woman who had just delivered a child to act so...harshly." His surprised expression fades away into that of complience. "Very well. I'll come to bed; it's no use arguing with you." He takes my hand, bringing it to his lips for a brief moment, and then helps me up.

Once we've made it to our room, he changes while I check on our little one. "Is he all right?" Erik comes up behind me and looks over my shoulder.

"He's fine. Sound asleep...for the moment. He shouldn't wake for a few more hours." I reach down and stroke the babe's delicate head. "Ready for bed?"

"That I am." He walks around to the other side of the bed, slips under the covers, and waits for me. "I'm not settling down until you're here."

I smile and lower myself onto the bed, pulling the covers over my legs and stomach. I lie on my side facing Erik, letting him rub my shoulder and caress my cheek.

"I don't understand why you aren't completely unconscious. After what you've endured, I'd expect you to sleep for ages."

"Some women are stronger than they seem, but I am horribly tired...a bit sore. It's just that I wanted to check on you."

"Then I say sleep is the best way to cure your ailments. Goodnight, my dear." He kisses my cheek and settles down beside me, an arm around me.

About three hours later, Erik's abscence from my side stirs me from my sleep. I sit up and look beside me, where my husband had been; then I look to the baby's cradle. It's empty! I shoot up and cry out, "Mon petit!"

"Shhh!" Erik's soothing voice whispers, a hand falling on my shoulder. "Kiera, ma cherie, it's all right. The baby is here with me. I heard him stir and got up to check on him. He was wide awake; I've been trying to get him to go back to sleep, but it's no use." He sits down beside me, handing our son to me. "You see?"

"Good heavens, Erik. I was afraid he'd been taken." I cradle the fragile being in my arms and rock him gently. "It's been about three hours." I unbutton the top of my gown again and let baby Donato nurse.

_"For one so small,_

_You seem so strong._

_My arms will hold you,_

_Keep you safe and warm._

_I will protect you,_

_From all around you._

_I will be here,_

_Don't you cry._

_'Cause you'll be in my heart._

_Yes, you'll be in my heart._

_You'll be in my heart,_

_Now and forever more._

_Always."_

"You've a beautiful voice." Erik wraps his arm around me and leans his head against mine. "And I'm quite certain he agrees." We both look down at our sleeping son. "I have a feeling he'll be a musician."

"Yes; as much as you and I love music, it seems impossible that he would not be the same."

Later in the morning, about two hours after sunrise, Erik and I eat our breakfast and listen to the silence that informs us young Erik is still sound asleep. Erik stares over the table at me, smiling widely. I can see a sparkle in his eyes that did not exist until he held his son for the first time. "I will never understand how you can appear so rested when I know for a fact you got as little sleep as I did last night."

I laugh. "We might as well get used to being up at all hours. An infant requires constant care, and I'll not deny him that. I never thought I'd play the role of 'Mother', but now that I've tasted it...I wouldn't trade motherhood for anything else in the world...not even for your love, Erik. He comes first."

He seems shocked by my last statement. "I must agree, but let's hope that a day when you must refuse my love for any reason does not come." He takes my hand and caresses it with the tips of his fingers.

"We can only pray." Our son's soft cries draw my gaze from my husband. I stand quickly, fleeing the table, and hurry to my crying babe's side. "Hush now, mon petite." I lift him from the cradle and rock him gently, quieting him.


	14. Chapter 14

_Christine_

I sit quietly at my vanity, brushing my curly hair, thinking only of Erik's words so many months ago. "I love her more than I could ever love you," I sneer mockingly. "I met and loved her long before you!" I repeat his words in defiance again. Slamming the brush onto the vanity, I glare angrily into the mirror. "You still love me, Erik," I say through gritted teeth. "You will be mine again, and you're little wife will not stand in my way." I clench my fists tightly, making my knuckles white. Anger is welling up in the pit of my stomach, making its way up my throat, until I cannot contain it. I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Christine!" Raoul hurries into the room, immediately taking me by the shoulders. "Christine, are you all right?" He looks my features over, studying every detail carefully. "Why did you scream, my darling?"

"Oh, Raoul, I just got so angry thinking about all the horrors I faced years ago in the Opera at Erik's hands," I lie.

"He's probably dead, Lotte; we don't have to worry about him anymore. Now, I must insist that you push all those terrible memories from your mind."

"Of course, Raoul." I smile reassuringly. "Could you have Collin take this to the listed address?" I hand a folded piece of parchment to him.

"Who's this to, Christine?" Raoul aks, reading the address.

"Oh, no one...just an old friend."

"I'll have him take it immediately, cherie." He leaves slowly, calling for Collin.

I haven't told him of my encounter with Erik at the Girys', and he doesn't know that I went to the site of Meg and Michael's home to try to seduce Erik...make him love me again. Meg would have told him, no doubt, but I made her promise not to. I could have easily informed Raoul of Erik's whereabouts so he could be arrested, but I did not. I cannot permit any harm to come to Erik at the hands of anyone...especially Raoul. Raoul will show no mercy...not even if I beg for it on Erik's behalf.

_Kiera_

Donato is three months old now. He wakes less often at night and causes very little trouble. Erik and I can sleep through most of the night without having to get up to sooth our son. I am nearly as small in the waist as I was before Donato was concieved, but I know that I'll never achieve such thinness again. Erik is happier than he's ever been and has held my statement true. He is an excellent father. I love to watch him hold Donato while singing or telling him a Persian fairytale.

Even at the young age of three months, Donato already shows signs of musical talent. I had taken him into the musicroom to listen to Erik play his newly completed piece. As always, when he finished, Erik pulled me down to sit at his side. While we were talking about any changes that could be made to his work, Donato reached out and pressed a key on the piano. We thought nothing of it, at first, but when he continued to strike keys, we noticed that he was hitting them in a rythmical pattern. He was playing a song. Erik and I had assumed he'd be talented in music, but we didn't expect it to be apparent so soon. We stared at each other for a moment and then watched Donato's little fingers press down the keys within reach.

"Well, what do you know? He'll be a musician after all." Erik grinned from ear-to-ear, pride no doubt swelling inside him. "And a fine one at that."

"He gets it honestly." I, too, smiled proudly and continued to gaze in wonderment as our son played the piano innocently and easily.

Donato's cries wake me just as the first grey light of dawn comes to the sky. "I'm coming, mon beau." I crawl from bed and lift him from the cradle.

"Right on time...as usual, son." Erik laughs, getting out of bed and stretching his arms to their full length. "He's a biological alarm clock." He kisses my cheek and goes to dress as Donato nurses hungrily.

"Indeed. Where are you going today, love?" I ask, sitting down on the bed.

"A couple from Orleans has asked to speak with me about the house they want built on the coast in Le Havre. Apparently, they came here on vacation, saw Meg and Michael's house, and loved it. They asked who designed it, and Meg instantly pointed them our direction. If I they want me to design and oversee the construction of this house, I'll probably have to be away from home for a while," he explains.

I sigh, saddened by the thought of Erik leaving Donato and me alone. "Erik, I don't want you to be away from home." I button my gown back up and pat Donato's back until he burps, then wipe away the milk that didn't make it into his mouth. Laying him back in the cradle, I hurry behind the changing screen to dress for the day. I put on a dark blue dress that's sleeves come just past my elbows. "I'm so used to having you here with me; I don't think I can go back to being alone."

"Kiera..." He appears in his normal attire but without his mask; he must retrieve it from his nightstand. "You will never be alone. So long as Donato is here, you will always have a part of me with you."

I come from behind the screen and make my way to the vanity to fix my hair. "I don't want only part of you, mon chere; I want all of you." I begin to brush out the tangles from my hair.

He stands behind me and looks at me in the mirror, his hands resting on my shoulders. "You haven't had all of me in nearly a year, my sweet." Smiling playfully, he presses his lips to the curve of my neck, kissing my skin gently.

I laugh. "With good reason." I put my hand under his chin and pull his lips away from my neck to my lips. "But that won't last much longer. Soon I'll have every inch of you again."

He growls and continues to savour my lips. Pulling away, he says, "I'm looking forward to that day."

"You mean night?"

"What does it matter? As long as we're together, I don't care if it's night or day, rain or shine, summer or winter." He returns to his own height. "I'm afraid I have to go, love. I probably won't be back until late this evening. We're meeting at Cafe Maria in Paris, and I'll stop by to see Mother if it's not too late."

"Donato and I will go along, then. Your mother hasn't seen him in almost two weeks, and I haven't been to Paris in months." I place Madam Bardoix's favorite hair clip, the one with diamonds shaped into a crescent moon and star, in my hair and take Donato from his crib.

"Very well. I'll hook Caesar to the carriage, and we'll be off." He disappears from the room.

I pull on my cloak, and lifting Donato from his cradle, leave the house to meet Erik outside. A cool breeze blows, chilling both our son and me. A shiver runs up my spine.

"Keep him warm under your cloak, cherie; the early morning air is quite cold." Erik puts his arm around me and helps me into the back of the small carriage.

"Merci, mon maestro." I settle down in the back, my cloak wrapped tightly about my left arm where Donato rests, wide awake. "I am surprised it is so cold at the end of October."

"Well, if you'd rather stay here..."

"No." I am quick to stop him midsentence. "We'll be all right."

He laughs and hands a thick, woolen blanket to me. "Wrap up in that, dear."

The ride seems much longer in the cold, and Erik is going a bit slower than usual. He doesn't want to hit a bump and thrash Donato and me about. We finally arrive outside the inn, and Madam rushes out the door, a shawl wrapped round her shoulders. "Bonjour, my dears." She hugs me tightly.

"Good morning, Madam. I'd embrace you, but as you can see, my arms are full." I pull my cloak and the blanket wrapped round myself back, revealing only the small bundle in my arms.

"Of course. Quickly, come inside; we don't want the little one catching a cold." She ushers me up the steps. "Erik...aren't you coming inside, my son?"

Erik comes up the steps. "Only to kiss Kiera and Donato goodbye." He kisses my lips and Donato's delicate forehead. "I will be back later today."

"Where are you going, son?"

"I'm afraid I haven't time to explain at the moment. I shall inform you upon my return. Au revoir." He climbs onto the driver's seat and starts Caesar in the direction of the Cafe Maria...at least five blocks away.

"A couple from Rouen has asked to meet with him; they'd like for him to design and oversee the construction of their new home on the coast in Le Havre," I explain, sitting down on the sofa, removing the blanket and cloak from my shoulders. Donato coos quietly, his lovely eyes darting about, exploring his new environment.

"Sounds intriguing." After putting a cup of tea for me on the sidetable, she folds a quilt and lies it on the floor. "Let little Donato lie there, while you enjoy your tea and give your arms a rest."

"An excellent idea." I lie my precious son down cautiously, making certain I will not harm him in any way, and encircle him with pillows from the sofa and chairs.

"He looks just like his father...very handsome. Piercing blue-green eyes, light-brown hair, and a great curiousity for the unknown." Madam sips her tea as Donato's tiny hands grope at the quilt and surrounding pillows. "He's a bright-minded lad; he'll crawl much earlier than most."

"Yes; he's an exact replica of Erik." I sigh and watch him in amusement and wonderment. It's hard to believe that only three short months ago, I could only feel him kicking and moving within me, and now, I carry him in my arms as he stares up at me through such beautiful eyes.

"Kiera..." Madam notices that I am lost in thought and sits her tea aside. "I can see you in him, as well." She answers my questioning eyes, saying, "He isn't as wary of newcomers as Erik. He can tell when someone is friendly or not, and he grows attached to those he finds to be kind."

"I agree, but he'll learn down the line that attachment leads only to pain." I look away. "Don't say that no pain has come of my love for Erik, Madam."

"What do you mean, Kiera? I don't understand. The two of you are always so happy."

"That selfish little brat he chased at the Opera has seemingly appeared out of nowhere. I made Erik go back to the cold cellars of the Opera after I stumbled upon the two of them. I wanted to strangle the little devil the moment I saw her lips locked with Erik's."

"You're possessive of him? It seems that it should be the other way around."

I move from the sofa to the floor, sitting at Donato's side, letting him grasp my index finger tightly as he studies my fingernail. "I hate for him to be around other women his age or younger. I grow wild with jealousy at the very thought. I know I cannot keep a man like him from what he wants, but...I wish I could."

"Child, I don't believe for a minute that Erik would want any other woman but you. If he didn't, he would not have married you...let alone fathered your child." She takes my tea cup and disappears into the kitchen, returning shortly.

"I don't want Erik to leave."

"Even for the oppertunity of another part of the country seeing his genius? Kiera, forgive me, but that's a bit selfish, don't you think?

"What kind of wife would be if I did not want the world to see his brilliance? It's just..." I pause. "Never mind." I take a deep breath and continue to let my son inspect my fingers and hand.

After another hour or so, I decide to confront Monsieur le Vicomte and discuss his wife's attempts to steal away my husband. "Madam, I'm going to pay the de Chagneys a visit. All of Christine's attempts to tear Erik and I apart have got to stop; I will not allow Donato to grow up in an atmosphere where I'm constantly stressed by the appearance of his father's past flame."

"Would you like me to keep Donato for you?"

"If you can handle him; I'd rather not expose him to that little serpant's poison." I pick myself up and put on my cloak. "If Erik's comes before I get back, don't tell him where I am; he'll come to find me straight away and get himself arrested."

"Then what am I supposed to tell him?" She lifts Donato from his protective fort and comes to the door. "Kiera..."

"I went for a walk through town," I answer. "Au revoir, mon petit; be good for your grandma. I doubt he'll be any trouble. I won't stay gone too long." With one last look at my son, I close the door and start down the streets towards the de Chagney mansion. The walk is long, but I soon find myself at the steps of an enormous manor. Taking a deep breath, I walk up the white limestone steps to the double doors. Summoning all of my courage, I knock three times and wait.

An older gentleman opens the door and asks, "Can I help you?"

"I would like to speak with Monsieur de Chagney. Is he about?"

"The Master..."

"Who is it Collin?" Raoul appears behind the man.

"This woman wishes to speak with you, sir. I was just about to tell her you were not to be disturbed and send her away."

"Go tend to something, Collin. This is Mademoiselle Torque; Reyer's prized violinist from the.." He stops, clearly not wanting to say "opera". "Won't you come inside?" He steps aside and lets me pass through the door, leading me to the parlor. "I was just about to have some tea. Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, please." I take the cup he hands to me. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."

"I am." He takes a sip of his tea and sits down. "Care to explain."

"It's about Madam de Chagney." I sit my cup aside, preparing to be overwhelmed by a flood of questions.

"Christine? My wife? What is going on, Mademoiselle?" 

"Do not be angry with me for all that I'm about to tell you; I speak nothing but the truth." He nods. "For one, I am no longer Mademoiselle Torque; I am married and have a three month old son."

"Who is your husband? Perhaps I know him."

"Erik...the side of the Opera Ghost few have seen."

"The Phantom!" He chokes on his tea. "You married _him_? And you have a son? Are you mad, Kiera?"

"Erik is not the man you saw; he's very kind and would do anything to protect our son and me. However, that's not the main reason I am here. On to the matter that concerns Christine."

"I'm listening intently."

"Your wife had a run in with my husband quite some time ago at the Girys'...pure accident. I was angry with Erik for a time, but I realized it was not intentional. Later, she came to the site of Meg and Michael's home, which Erik had designed and was overseeing construction. I had the misfortunate of finding her kissing him. My husband has been trying to avoid her; neither of us wants trouble between our family and yours. I know you think I am lying, but I assure you it is all true. I am here to inform you of all this before a rumor is started and my family is forced to uproot and flee for our lives."

"You've always been truthful. It's just that I...I'm not certain what to say about this."

"Monsieur, please, I beg of you...find some way to keep Christine and my Erik from bumping into one another again. I'm tired of worrying about losing him to her."

He takes a deep breath, obviously deep in thought. "I'll have a word with her. Thank you for informing me of all this."

"Monsieur, can I rest assured that you'll not send a spy to find out where Erik and I live?"

"You have my word. Congratulations on your marriage and the birth of your son." He sighed heavily. "I promise I will have a word with Christine. She won't interfere in your lives again."

"Thank you, Monsieur, for your cooperation and hospitality." I get up to leave. "Promise one more thing, Monsieur."

"As long as it's within reason."

"Erik has not meddled in your life with Christine, am I correct?"

"Yes. What are trying to say?"

"Promise me that you will forgive and forget all that happened at the Opera, call off the gendarmes, and leave my husband in peace. If he deserves anything, it is that. For a long time, Christine haunted him, but now, he sleeps well. I want things to stay that way. Christine and you belong among the aristocrats, and Erik and I belong with each other and our music. Simply promise that our familes will live in blissful unawareness of the other."

"I promise." He walks me to the door and waves as I start down the street.


	15. Information

**Again, I shouldn't use this space for notices but I've really got to let you guys know this. Okay peeps. Please, review my chapters. I really get depressed when you don't. It makes me feel like you've all forgotten about me. The fewer reviews I have, the longer it takes me to decide to put up another chapter. So, if you like this fic and want it to last until the second baby is born...leave a review and tell me what you think. Seriously, I'm considering giving up on this fic. I've written up to chapter 21 but because of the lack of reviews..I am not posting new chapters and may abandon this fic all together.**

**Your humble authoress,**

**Fop Hunter**


	16. Chapter 15

_Kiera_

"There you are, Kiera!" Madam exclaims as I enter the lobby. "It's about time. Donato was getting quite fussy without you here."

"He's probably hungry." I take my whimpering babe and soothe him. "Hush, now, my son. I'm here." I walk into the little den and take a seat on the sofa, still rocking him slightly. Once he has nursed, he drifts to sleep.

"We had a guest checkout while you were gone..." Madam pops in and notices Donato sleeping, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I'm going to make sure the room is in order."

I nod and watch as she disappears from the doorway. Looking at my son reminds me of Erik and the fact that he's been gone for several hours now. Sighing, I say, "Hurry back, Erik." I hate being away from him for long periods of time; it's heartbreaking not having him here for any amount of time. I don't know what I'll do if he goes to Le Havre. He'd be gone for up to a year. _How can I live without him for a year?_ My heart feels like it's about to be torn in two at the thought of being without him for a year. My husband is the other half of my soul; without him I am nothing.

"Kiera..." Madam returns with a folded piece of paper in her hand. "This came for you while you were gone." She hands it to me. "The man who carried it said that you were to open it immediately."

"Hmm...who could be sending me a letter. Surely it wasn't Anna." I give Donato to her and open the letter. It reads:

_Kiera:_

_I told you he'd come back. Right now, you think he's at some meeting with a couple from Orleans, but he isn't. He's on my bed asleep after our long, intensive, passionate tumble. Don't worry; he's happy and much better off with me. I'll give you a piece of advice: pack your things, take that bastard you call your son, and get out of this part of France. Hell! Leave the country entirely; that's even better._

_Erik's heart and soul will always be mine; the only thing you have of him is that accident...illegitimate child. For Erik's sake, this is your fair warning. I'll not continue to be polite for much longer. Force is my next and final resort._

"She's gone mad!" I shout in frustration. "That psychopathic whore claims that Erik has slept with her since Donato was born!"

"It can't be the truth. Erik loves you more than anything on this planet...you mean even more to him than music."

"But still...what if it is? It's been more than a year since Erik and I..." I pause, not wanting to admit to intimacy with my husband. "Perhaps he went to her." I sigh heavily, trying to hold back angry tears.

"Child, he would never. Your wedding vows were promises, and he holds true to his promises. Why would he break one now? Escpecially a promise to you?" Madam pats my shoulder. "I'm going to take him upstairs to my room; he can sleep in Erik's old cradle. It's still in a good condition."

"Kiera? Mother?" Erik's familiar voice comes from the lobby. "Ma cherie, are you here?" He steps into the den and his face immediately turns. "What's wrong, love?"

"Read this." I hand the letter to him and watch as his visage changes from worry to anger. "What do you make of it?"

"Nothing but lies! How dare she call Donato a bastard!" He throws the piece of parchment to the floor and looks back up at me, hate flashing in his eyes. "Surely you don't believe that?"

"I...I don't know what to think." I bury my face in my palms. "I'm just...so overwhelmed by it."

"Kiera...you know I'd never do the things she says. I love you and no one else. Why is it you have so little faith in me?" He takes my hands and forces me to look into his eyes. "Every time she decides to taunt us, you don't seem to believe anything I say, and I can't understand why. We've been married more than a year, Kiera, and I have never once stepped out of line."

"Erik..." I'm cut off by his lips meeting mine. My hands immediately take the path up his shoulders that hasn't been used in nearly a year. Looking into his eyes, I can see the flame of desire dancing wildly. I squeal happily when I fall back on the sofa with him kissing my neck and collarbone.

"Let's take this upstairs. There are no guests and my mother can keep an eye on Donato." He scoops me up and starts for the stairs.

"I'm guessing the two of you want some alone time?" Madam confronts us as at the top of the stairs. "Go in the last door on the right; Andrew and I called it the 'Honeymoon Suite'. The walls are thicker so less noise escapes. I'll keep an eye on Donato." She laughs and lets us pass.

"She's quite understanding." I laugh as he hurries down the hall.

"But not as understanding as you'll be once I'm through with you." He kicks the door closed and takes me over to the bed. Before I know what's going on, Erik has me on my back, completely nude, and has his way with me.

It's dark now, and Erik and I are lying down, facing each other. "Your figure returned quite quickly," he says.

"Yes." I pause a moment, "Did I not tell you that I'd have every inch of you again?"

"I never doubted you." He kisses my lips briefly. "So...what did you do to content yourself while I was gone?" He twists his finger in my hair and waits for my reply.

"I watched and tended to Donato. I'm a mother, darling; I haven't the time for anything else." I lie to him, of course; I can't tell him I went to the de Chagney's.

"Have you not learned that I know when you are lying, cherie? Tell me the truth. What did you do? Besides...if you didn't have time for anything else we wouldn't have just made love." He shows me a wicked grin.

"I'll never understand how you do that? Is it my facial expressions? Do I look guilty?"

"Well...in most people it is their appearance, but with you it's different. I can tell when you are lying because I know you very well. Our son isn't old enough yet to be completely time consuming; now, when he starts crawling and walking, we're in for full-time guard duty. He still sleeps a lot; you had to have done something else while I was away."

"You're too clever for your own good."

"I'm clever for your own good and Donato's. Isn't my job as a husband and father to protect my family? Or have I been transported to some alternate universe where nothing is what it used to be?"

"That's true." I scoot closer to him, putting my ear to his chest. "I love to hear your heart beat."

"Come, now, m'ange. Tell me what you did to occupy your mind?"

"You'll be angry with me," I whisper. "I don't want you to be angry."

"You know I cannot be angry with you...disappointed, perhaps...but never angry." He begins to tickle me, finding amusement in my squirming and laughter. "Tell me, or I'll tickle you to death."

"Fine! Fine...fine." I calm down and begin. "I paid the Vicomte de Chagney a visit." I look up at his blanched face. "You don't need to worry; he was not rude at all. In fact, he was very polite about everything."

"And what do you mean by 'everything', Kiera?"

"Why do you think I would go there? Certainly not to chat over tea and cakes; surely your mind can solve that simple question. There is only one reason that I would degrade myself by going to that horrid house. I went to get assurance that Christine would never bother us again. I'm so sick of her popping up out of nowhere and destroying a wonderful day. She has been the center of our fights, Erik. The day I went to the site of Meg and Michael's house...that fight was because of her kissing you. When you came back home from the Girys' after showing them the house plans...again...Christine was the essence of our argument."

"If I recall correctly, we made up for that spat rather quickly." He smiles. "In the same manner that we were a moment ago...but with different purposes. That was for forgivenes...this was catching up and reaffirming our love. Never mind that though...continue. What did the Vicomte say?"

"He could hardly believe his dear Little Lotte would do such things, but he promised to keep her away."

"A promise means nothing to that man, Kiera. I'll never trust him." He gets up and walks to the window looking out through a crack in the thick curtains. "He's probably sent spies." Looking over his shoulder, he narrows his eyes. "I pray you took precautionary, evasive maneuvers."

"Of course. I walked through large crowds, went through the Opera's cellars, crossed the streets on several occassions, and looked over my shoulder regularly." I, too, crawl from bed, and stand before him when he turns around to face me. "Surely you don't think me to be that stupid."

"No, but I'd rather not have to deal with that man." He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against him. "You're a clever woman." With a sigh, he rests his head on top of mine and sings softly. "Oh, how I've missed times like this...when it was only you and me in a room, wearing nothing but our skin, and the only blankets we had were one another."

"Yes, but I wouldn't trade them for the time we've had with Donato or the time to come; I love him so."

"As do I." He leads me towards the bed again and lies down at my side, pulling the thick blankets over us. "Do you think I should take the Le Havre job?"

"Why are you asking me? You are the architect, love."

"Because I value my wife's opinion more than any others'. I cannot decide what I should do. I want to stay here to help you with Donato and watch him grow, but I also want to go there. This house will be my best yet, and I want to see it in reality...not on a page. I'm torn between my two loves: my family and my passion for designing buildings."

I move as close to him as I can for warmth. "I think you should do what your heart says. If your heart says you should stay here, that's wonderful...I don't have to worry so much and get to spend more time with you. However, if it tells you to go...so be it...I'll make it through and then thrust all the love you've missed upon you when you return. I leave the final decision to you, Erik. It's whatever you choose."

"I don't want leaving to make more work for you. An infant is a handful; besides, he is as much my son as he is yours, and I should help take care of him." He groans and buries his face in the pillow. "Please, Kiera, choose for me."

"No. The choice is not mine." I stroke his hair for a moment before letting it lie on his exposed cheek. "Besides, you know that I'd want you to stay here, but I don't want you to miss an oppertunity for the world to see your work."

"And I don't want to be away from my family for so long. For heaven's sake, I'd miss his first birthday, his first steps, his first words...everything...our anniversary included. Life is full of far too many decisions." He stares back into my eyes. "You and Donato could always come with me."

"Erik, no. I won't force Donato to go on such a long journey at this young of an age, and what of your mother? Your sisters don't come around anymore; she never gets to see her other grandchildren. It would be cruel to take Donato away. Going with you is simply out of the question, my dear. I'm sorry." I get up from bed and put on my clothes. "Have they decided to have you as the architect?"

"They want me, but said the decision to come was mine. I must let them know within two days." He begins putting on his clothes too. "I don't know what to do, Kiera. Who knew having a family would cause such conflict with work?"

"Erik, love, you are the type of man who thinks everything out. Did you ever plan what you would do if you became a popular architect?" I sit down in front of the vanity and brush out my hair.

"Well, of course, but I never thought I'd have a wife and son to add into the mix." He kisses my neck and inhales the scent of my hair. "I suppose that would be something to do prior to the next oppurtunity that is laid before me."

"What do you mean? You aren't going to Le Havre?" I turn around on the stool and stare up at him in shock.

"You and Donato are more important to me; family comes before work. I'll send the couple word that I cannot work for them now." He goes over to a desk and scribbles out a short note.

"Kiera, Donato is crying for you," Madam calls over Donato's cries.

"I'm coming, Madam." I leave the room and take Donato from her arms. "Hush, now, petit." Once I begin to rock him and sing, he quiets down, and soon falls asleep again. "Just a nightmare, no doubt. Thank you for letting us use the room."

"Not at all. What kind of marital relationship do you have if you don't make love every once in a while? I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves." The bell at the front desk rings. "I have to go downstairs, dear."

"Yes." Just as she disappears down the stairs, Erik comes to my side. "You haven't lost your touch, darling; I half expected you to be a little rusty. You certainly proved me wrong, and I noticed a few new moves."

"I've been saving those for you...a little something more to offer you, rather than the same old thing. I'm guessing you approve of them?"

"Very much; are you sure you haven't been practicing? I can't help but be suspicious." I smile innocently.

"You know me better than that; you are the only woman who knows exactly what I have in store." He kisses my cheek.


	17. Chapter 16

_Erik_

Christine's threats have become less frequent now; Meg tells us that she is expecting a child of her own and is too busy being fawned over by all of the nobility, media, and Raoul to bother us. Kiera and I are thankful for this; we can at last lay our worries to rest and enjoy being parents without the constant fear of threats, though they are empty. However, as the viscountess, Christine has the power to have whatever she wants done to us.

Donato has begun to crawl and stand on his own, but he's still not secure enough with his balance to walk without holding on to a stable object, whether it be Kiera's hand or mine, or a table or chair. We often let him attempt to walk between us, prepared to scoop him up after a spill. He's a such a good boy; he sleeps all night now, rarely waking, permitting Kiera and I to catch up on lost sleep. He eats more solid food now too, no longer relying on his mother's milk to ease his hunger. He also speaks a bit: Maman, Papa, piano, music...the words he has heard from his time in his mother's womb, through his infancy, until now at the age of ten months.

As I sit at my desk in the study, designing a small, elegant house for a couple only a few miles down the road, the pitter patter of Donato's wobbly footsteps on the harwood floor, along with the rhythmical click of Kiera's shoes draws my attention. The door creaks slightly as it opens. "Can I help the two of you?" I ask with a smile.

"Papa!" Donato exclaims, doing his best to pull Kiera in my direction.

"Now, Donato, we must see if Papa has the time to spend with you right now. You'll have to ask him."

"Papa," he says, releasing his grip on her hand; having done so, he takes a couple of steps and falls face first to the ground. He looks up at me, his lip trembling before he bursts into tears.

"Darling!" Kiera reaches him first, sweeping him into her arms. "Are you hurt, mon beau?" She searches his arms, legs, head, and stomach for any injuries. "You gave me a horrid scare, Donato."

"Permit me, love?" I reach out to take him from her arms. As he cries into my shoulder, wetting the fabric of my shirt with his tears, I bounce him a bit, singing softly. "Angels above, sing sweetly to us. Calming our nerves, ending such fuss. Playing their harps, their trumpets too, they dry our tears and cease our sorrows." Soon, he is calm and resting against me. "You see, now; it wasn't all that bad, my son." I hold him where I can see his face. "Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

"I stay, Papa?" His little fingers trail over my mask.

"Of course you may stay...both of you. I needed a break anyway." Kissing his cheek, I walk over to Kiera and lightly kiss her lips. "You look lovely, my dearest. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you. How's the design coming along?" she questions.

"As smoothly as one could hope; though, I'm having a bit of trouble coming up with a design for the fireplace."

"They've asked you to design their fireplace, too? My, my, Erik...these people _really_ adore your work and value your opinion. However, I have the feeling your work is going to take you away from France soon."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel as though you are going to be offered a position you cannot refuse in another country...England, perhaps." She looks at the building designs sprawled across the desktop. "I have an idea." She picks up the charcoal and sketches a rough drawing of a rather elaborate fireplace. "What do you think?"

I study it for a moment. "Very nice, and...it's just what it needs. I'll use this. Merci, ma cherie." Again, I kiss her lips. "Now, back to your feeling. Haven't I proved I will not take a job or position over my family? If I ever leave France for a job, it will be because you and Donato can come with me; that, my dear, is the honest truth."

"I know; forgive me."

"Papa...piano...music." Donato tugs at my collar.

"As you wish, Donato; come, Kiera, we'll go enjoy a bit of music while I take a break from my work." Taking her hand with my free hand, I lead her to the music room only a short walk away. Sitting down on the piano bench, I ask, "Do you wish to sit with your mother or me, Donato?"

"Papa." He hugs me and then taps one of the keys. "Play!"

"Very well." I scoot further back on the piano bench, close enough I can still reach the pedals, but far enough away that I can sit Donato on the bench between my legs. Looking over to Kiera, I say, "You can join us, love. He's not much of a biter, and I only bite when the occassion is appropriate." I give her a devillish smile and wait for her response.

"Well, I'm certainly not afraid of either of you; I shall join the party." Placing her hands on my shoulders, she tells me to proceed.

I play through the entire piece, despite the occassional interruption of Donato's curious fingers striking a key. Though, if it does not fit with the music, he cringes and sinks back, covering his face with his hands. "That's all, son," I sigh when I'm done.

"Piano! Piano, Papa!" Donato slaps his hands against the piano's key cover.

"No, son; you're going to take a nap while I fix dinner, and your father goes back to his work. Come along." She picks him up and goes to our room, lying him in his crib. "Sweet dreams, my sweet."

When she joins me in the hall, I ask, "Must I really go back to work?"

"No, I suppose not, but I assumed you would. Unless...would you like to help me?" She walks willingly into my embrace.

"Indeed. Shall we?" I scoop her up and carry her downstairs to the kitchen. Sitting her on the table, I press my lips to hers. "I love you."

"And I love you. Now, let's start dinner before we get carried away and wind up on the floor without our clothes." She slides down and pulls out the ingredients she needs. "We can do that tonight after we put Donato to bed." She glances over her shoulder at me, a smile of pure affection on her lips; then she goes back to gathering ingredients.

"She tends to a toddler, cooks dinner, cleans a large house, and still manages to find time to be with me in rather...delightful ways." I kiss her neck. "I don't know how you do it, my love. I can multitask musically...but when it comes to the things you do...I'm a lost cause."

"That's why you have me, mon chere, but you aren't completely hopeless. You are useful for some things...like helping me wind down in the evening." She turns to me, pressing her body against mine as she caresses my uncovered cheek. "Please, help me get things together, mon ange. I want dinner to be ready when Donato wakes."

"Your wish is my command, my most beautiful lady." I bow teasingly. "Feel free to order me as you see fit."

"Erik!" She pushes me gently. "Quit being silly."

"Fine, fine." I agree and do as she instructs.

We prepare for about an hour and a half before Kiera deems the food good enough to eat. She begins filling bowls with the hot soup and says, "Fetch Donato, if you will, dear, and the both of you wash up while I set the table."

"Then I shall return shortly, my love." I kiss her cheek and go upstairs to retrieve Donato. The moment I step into the room, I notice him sitting up, staring at a robin perched on the window sill. He does not turn to look at me as I cross the room, he merely gazes at the creature with wonder as it sings. I too watch for a moment, until a gust of wind drives the bird away. Donato begins to cry.

"There will be others, my son. Birds don't stay in one place for very long." I pick him up, calming him almost immediately. "It's time for dinner; we have strict orders from Maman to wash up."

After washing our hands, we go downstairs to the dining room where Kiera is standing with her hands on her hips. "There are my two men...late, as usual. I blame you for that, Erik. What kept you?" She takes Donato and kisses his forehead lightly, brushing a few strands of his brown hair out of his face.

"We were listening to a robin sing on the window sill."

"Excuses, excuses." She smiles, giving into a laugh a moment later. "Let us dine."

Once we've finished, Kiera takes Donato to the bathroom for his bath...after he managed to get soup all over himself and his clothes. As always, he immediately grows drowsy, nodding off as Kiera puts his clothes on. "Poor thing...he must have not slept very well during his nap. Sleep is what's best for him." She carries him to our room and puts him to bed, singing for a short time, until he is fast asleep.

"I'm going to bathe, mon chere." She brushes her fingers against my uncovered cheek and walks to the bath. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."

"I won't." Returning to the study, I go back to work on the house plans I had been working on before. I draw in Kiera's fireplace, adding a few minor details to finish it. In about half an hour, the slight creaking of the door draws my attention to the dark figure standing in the door way, leaning against the frame. "Kiera?"

"Who else?" She steps forward, a devilishly playful smile on her lips. She is wearing the long, silken night gown I gave her for her twenty-sixth birthday, along with a silver, heart-shaped locket that she wears on a regular basis. The gown comes to her ankles, wrapping around her loosely, revealing her curvey figure. _She may have had a child, but she still looks as gorgeous as she did when we first met. _The neck of the gown is low cut, sagging slightly in the front. The shoulders are simply two pieces of fabric about two inches wide. She has her hair down, letting it cascade over her shoulders and down her back like waterfalls of starlight; her black eyes shimmer in the light, letting me read her every thought. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

"I'm glad I bought you that. You are absolutely...without a doubt...the most beautiful thing God ever created. If Aphrodite was real, she would be equal to Hephastus comapred to you; you are the true goddess." I nearly fall off the edge of my seat gazing upon her.

"Shall we proceed with what you started earlier?" She moves to my side and whispers in my ear, "I'll be waiting for you in the spare room." Her lips barely touch my skin before she leaves, glancing back over her shoulder. "Don't make me wait too long, darling."

Controlling my body has never been so hard in my entire life. I married a goddess. Having recovered from my shock, I hurry to the spare room where I find my lovely Kiera lying on her side, still smiling.

"Well?"

"You're in for quite a night, my dear." I make my way to the bed and lean over her, pressing my lips to hers as she removes my mask, wig, and shirt. Once I'm rid of all my clothes, I pull her gown over her head and drop it to the floor.

"Erik," she says, as our lips part for the necessity of oxygen. "No matter what happens..." She's cut off as my lips find hers again for a moment. "Love me."

"Nothing in this world could keep me from loving you." Again, her lips are mine, and I keep my word. It is _quite a night_.

The next morning, we wake to the sun streaming through the curtains, shining warm beams on our skin. I lean over and press a kiss to Kiera's neck and run my hand over her shoulder. "We should get dressed, ma cherie. Donato will be up soon."

"He doesn't normally wake until about eight. It's barely six." She buries her face in the pillow and ignores me.

I smile, an idea coming to mind. "Well, I'm getting up." She says nothing as I leave the covers and put on my robe. I scurry to the bathroom and draw cold water, filling the tub to about half way. "I'll get you up yet, Kiera." Returning to the spare room, I scoop her up. "I'm taking you to our room in case Donato wakes up." She mumbles her reply but does not look up to make certain. I hold her over the water, lowering her down slowly...until I'm holding her a few inches above the water. Then, I drop her into the frigid water.

She screams, avoiding curses as she scrambles to get out and retrieve a towel. After she wraps a large one about her, she begins to cry.

"Kiera, are you all right?"

"My father used to wake me up like that. Only, he'd add pieces of chopped up ice and make me sit in it until he permitted me to get out." She gazes up at me, shivering tremendously with tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the water dripping from her hair. "Why did you have to do that, Erik?"

"It was just for fun, love. Had I known, I would have never followed through." Thinking of any way of calming her down, I say, "You know, my robe can fit two people. Would you care to join me?" I open my robe and allow her to huddle against me. "I really am sorry." I take notice that her cries have changed to that of laughter. "Kiera?"

She looks up at me. "You've played right into my trap." With a wicked laugh, she pushes me into the water. "Not as much fun on the other side of the prank, is it?"

"No, but I deserved what I got." I climb out and grab a towel as well. "You're the only one who's successfully used my own prank against me." I turn to see her watching the water drain from the tub; then she fills it again with hot water. "Planning on pushing me into that too?"

"No; I plan on taking a warm bath." Once it's filled, she drops her towel and climbs in, sinking down until she is completely submerged beneath water and bubbles. For a moment she stays below, but surfaces shortly. "You can join me, you know?"

"Yes, but I won't. I need to get to work on those designs again. Enjoy yourself." When I open the door into our room, I see Donato staring at me through glistening eyes. "Donato's awake, love."

"Will you bring him in here? I might as well give him a bath while I'm in."

"Certainly." I pick the boy up and carry him to his mother. "There you are."

"Merci." She undresses him and sits him in the water on her stomach, as she is still slouching. "Good morning, mon beau."

"I'll see the both of you later." I kiss each of them, and go to dress.


	18. Chapter 17

_Kiera_

Today is Donato's first birthday. He's grown into such a handsome toddler, resembling his father in many ways. However, his attitude does not reflect his faternity, but rather maternity. He has my attitude towards situations; though his wit is shared. He's more balanced in walking by himself, but he has yet to make it from my arms to his father's.

Erik has at last finished the small house he was working on two months ago; The workers moved quicker than expected and the building was completely done in a month and a half. Now he is concocting ideas for remodeling the Opera Populaire. I tell him he's insane, but he just smiles and replies, "Then I suppose I'll have to be locked away."

As for myself, nothing is any different than it has always been. I clean, cook, and care for my family. My hair is still starlight silver and my eyes black as night.

Donato's party is simple. Madam Sandria, Madam Giry, Anna, Ariela, and Nikolus are the only guests present. Meg and Michael were unable to attend as Meg has strict orders from her doctor to stay at home...off her feet. Her child is due within the next week. We assured Madam Giry that it was all right if she stayed with Meg instead of coming to the party, but she insisted on coming. Donato is like a grandchild to her. We've recently learned of Ariela's pregnancy; however, she is only about three months along. Anna and Nikolus are very excited. Madam Sandria, the ever watchful grandmother, is still doing well for her age and cherishes Donato more than life itself.

While Donato sits on my lap, fiddling with the tiny music box Madam Sandria gave him, Erik stands at a distance, staring off into the distance. For a time, I ignore his behavior, assuming that he's merely pondering some new idea for the Opera. Though, as soon as I notice him turn away and leave the house, I think otherwise. "Madam Giry, will you hold Donato for a few minutes? There's something I must see to."

"But of course, my dear." She takes Donato and smiles at him, helping him restart the music box.

"Thank you, Madam." I hurry out the back door and into the stables. "Erik!" I call. I spot him sitting on a hay bale, cradling his head in his hands. "Mon chere, what's wrong? Why aren't you back inside?"

"Just thinking. You know, my darling, I cannot bring myself to believe you and I have been married for a year and a half, and we have a son who is one year old today. It's overwhelming."

"I agree; it is at times, but isn't it grand? Neither of us ever thought we'd be giving a party for our son's first birthday."

"I suppose." Taking me in his arms, he pulls me closer, our lips just barely seperated. "How did you know it was me that night on the stage at the Opera?"

"I...I really don't know. You're voice helped a great deal, since you had used it against me in Persia, and the way you moved across the stage." He raises a brow. "With majesty. I adored how gracefully you walked and wished I could do the same...like I was on air." I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "I was lucky to have found you down there."

"And I was lucky that you came; otherwise, I might have...well...you understand."

"Yes." I kiss his cheek softly and stand up. "Let's go back inside. It's Donato's birthday; his mother shouldn't be the only parent present. Come."

"Of course." He gets up and takes my hand, leading the way inside where Donato is sitting on Madam Giry's lap, still observing the music box with great intent. "He'll probably figure out how to take it apart soon; he has quite a mind."

"That he does," Ariela says with a smile. "I hope our's is as brilliant."

"All parents do, child." Madam Sandria pats Ariela's shoulder. "My hopes actually came true...twice. My son is a genius, and my grandson is as smart as a whip for his age."

"He gets it honestly; both his mother and father are great minds." Madam Giry sits Donato on the ground at her feet.

A knock at the door startles us all. "Who could that be?" Erik asks, starting towards the door. "Surely it isn't Meg."

"I'll get it, darling; I've got an idea of who it might be." I hurry past him, to the front door. Opening it cautiously, I find three women, all a bit younger than Erik. Two have dark brown hair, the other has blazing red. Each of them have children huddled behind them. "Can I help you ladies?"

"We recieved a letter to come to this address on this day. We weren't sure why, but decided to come," the one with curly, dark hair replies.

"Then you must be Lynette, Grace, and Danielle?"

"Yes. How do you know us?" the red head inquires.

"I know your mother quite well...Madam Sandria Mardon. Come inside." I escort them all inside, leading them to the den where everyone stares in awe at the pack of people following me. "Madam Mardon, do you recognize any of these people?" I step aside.

"My dear daughters!" Madam rushes forward and embraces them all at once. "Oh, my sweets! It has been far too long." She's crying now. "Why haven't you come to visit me?"

"We're horribly sorry, Mother; our husbands refuse to let us." Danielle cries into her shoulder.

"How did you know I was here? I...Kiera...did you?" She turns to me.

I nod and smile. "I hope you aren't angry with me."

"Not at all, child. You are family." She kisses my cheek. "Now, Lynette, Grace, Danielle...there's someone I want you to meet for the first time...your older brother...Erik." She motions for Erik to come forward. "Erik, these are your sisters: Lynette, the closest to you in age, Grace, the middle child of the girls with your father's red hair and dazzling blue eyes, and last, but certainly not least, Danielle...the youngest of you all."

"It's nice to meet you, at long last, brother." Grace steps out ad hugs Erik, kissing his cheek. "Papa told us about you but only briefly. You have Papa's face."

"Thank you...my dearest sister."

The other two follow in their sister's footsteps, along with the three little boys and two girls.

"Are you married, Erik?" Grace asks, taking her son's hand.

"Yes. This is my wife, Kiera." He takes my hand, pulling me to his side. "And the little boy there, is our son, Donato."

"He's precious, and your wife is beautiful. This is my only son, Dimitri."

"And these two are my daughters, Aure and Belle." Lynette ushers her two children forward to meet their uncle.

"My two boys' names are Oliver and Cedric." Danielle rubs the two children's heads and smiles. "We're glad to know you are alive, Erik. If only Papa was here. He really loved you, you know."

"Kiera, Erik, look!" Ariela calls.

We both turn to see Donato walking towards us, without anything to hold onto. "Papa! Maman!" He continues on his way towards my skirts.

"Well, well." Erik watches intently, pride clear in the way he stands and smiles. "Good job, my son."

"Maman!" Donato latches onto my skirt and looks up at me, smiling brightly, showing off his four teeth. "Good?"

"Yes! Very good, indeed, Donato!" I lift him from the ground and spin around, kissing his cheek. "We're so proud of you." Erik stands at my side now.

"He looks just like you, brother...adorable." Grace touches his cheek. "Well done, petit."

"Who, Maman? Who?" Donato tugs at the collar of my shirt, his gaze lingering on Grace.

"This is your Aunt Grace and cousin Dimitri; your Aunt Danielle and counsins Oliver and Cedric; your Aunt Lynette and cousins Aure and Belle. Your aunts are Papa's sisters; your cousins are your aunts' children. Do you understand?" I explain as simply as I can.

"Yes, Maman." He nods and waves to them all.


	19. Chapter 18

_Kiera_

The Mardon family has become quite close over the last tree years. Lynette, Grace, and Danielle visit Madam Mardon, as well as Erik, Donato, and me. We've numerous get-togethers for anniversaries, birthdays, and just for time to be a family. Donato is very fond of his cousins; they all get along so well. Now that he's mastered walking and running, he's become a real charmer; with his excellent manners and speaking skills, despite his age, he's nothing short of a gentleman...like his father.

Erik has sent his remodeling plans to Monsieur Gilles Andre and Monsieur Richard Firmin under the pseudonym Elliot Matthews, claiming to be an English architect. _O.G._ has long since been abandoned; we rarely speak of that time in Erik's life. The Phantom of the Opera is dead to everyone in Paris...why not the man he once was and his family?

"Maman," Donato says, taking my hand away from my book. "Come listen to me play, please?" He looks at me through Erik's glistening eyes, pleading silently with me. Since Erik has been giving him lessons, he comes to me on a regular basis, trying to persuade me into listening to him play through a new piece.

"Very well." I put my book away and follow him to the music room. "What are you going to play for me? Something classical or original?" I take a seat in a stool beside the piano.

"You'll have to guess, Maman. Listen." He begins to play a very familiar tune to me; a piece I have heard many times before. "Will you sing the words Maman? You do know them."

"Yes, mon beau; I do know them, but I'd rather not force you to hear my terrible singing."

"Please, Maman. You have a pretty voice." Again his lovely eyes force me to comply with his wishes.

"Fine." I take a deep breath and start where he left off playing.

_"Then atlast, a song from the gloom,_

_Seemed to cry I hear you._

_He shared my fears,_

_My torment and my tears._

_He felt the same as I._

_Knew all their tricks and lies._

_No one would love me._

_Just this one man, could be someone like me."_

A cold object falls on the uncovered skin just below my collarbone, along with a warm body pressing against my back. I reach up with my right hand, feeling for the smooth texture of white porcelain. At last, my fingers come in contact with a cold object. "Erik," I sigh, leaning into my husband's warm embrace.

"Go look in the mirror, darling." He kisses my neck and ushers me towards the mirror. "I think you'll like what you find."

I step over to the mirror and gasp, covering my mouth with one trembling hand. Around my neck is a necklace with a diamond, crescent moon dangling from the chain. "Erik! I...why did you? Oh, my goodness! It's beautiful!"

"Am I not allowed to dote upon my wife every once in a while or even on our anniversary?"

"Did you plan all this? Donato playing our song, convincing me to sing it, and you sneaking in?" I turn to him, smiling.

"Yes. It was a good plan, wasn't it?" His hands caress my waist as his lips trail up my neck. "What do you think, son? How does your mother look wearing her new necklace?"

"You look beautiful, Maman." He slides off the piano bench and wraps his arms around my legs. "Did I play well, Maman?"

"Yes, you did; you are your father's son." I lower myself down to his level and kiss his soft cheek. His questioning look urges me to continue. "You are a very talented musician and look just like him. You get your looks from him. That, my son, is a good thing." I stand up and move to the closet, taking out a large box. "Here is your gift."

He opens the box and takes out a thick bundle of paper with the staff preprinted on each sheet, four bottles of ink (red and black), two new pens, along with a thick, black cloak made of the finest materials I could find. "Kiera...this is...what I needed. I was down to my last bottle of ink, a few more pages, and my last good pen. You pay close attention, my dear. The cloak is a plus, but why?"

"I noticed your other was a bit tattered and worn. I don't know how the thing kept you warm."

"This is marvelous; thank you, cherie." He kisses my lips softly before turning around. "Where's Donato?"

"I'm here." He appears from the hall with a piece of parchment in his hand. "I made you and Maman a picture, Papa." Holding it out to us, he stands back and waits for our approval.

It is a portrait of Erik and me from the shoulder up, our heads leaning against the other's with me clearly standing just in front of him. "Donato, this is exquisite. Very good. Merci, mon beau. However..."

"There's something missing. Where are you, son?" Erik finishes for me.

"I decided to just draw you and Maman. Do you like it?"

"We love it, sweetheart." I bend down and kiss his cheek. "You're such a brilliant boy."

"Yes." Erik kisses his forehead and returns to his height.

A knock at the door draws us away from the moment. "I'll get it; it's probably the mailman. He never seems to come at the same time every day. His watch must be broken or his horse doesn't like going more than two miles without a long rest."

"Oh, Erik, you know well that you would stop for Caesar."

"Yes, but Caesar is an old man now; he'd drop dead if I didn't. Persephone on the other hand, just seven years, could handle that distance, and Athena most certainly could she's but four years old."

"Stop arguing and go get the door," I order, laughing at the expression on his face. "Your father could argue with anyone and anything."

"Not with you, cherie! You're too stubborn!" he shouts from halfway down the stairs.

"I have to be to put up with you on a regular basis!" I call. "Son, I pray you aren't as pigheaded as your father. Come along; let's go see what the mailman has brought us today." We find Erik standing in front of the door, sifting through the few pieces of parchment. "Well, darling?"

He doesn't answer, but merely stares at a particular paper. "This is rather...astounding!" He speaks with more excitement than concern. "This is a letter from London, England...addressed to me." He breaks the blue seal and reads it aloud:

"Dear Mr. Mardon:

My wife and I have been looking for an architect to design and help construct our new home. We are quite picky when it comes to these things. Surely you understand. According to the research we've done on you, you aren't very widely known. I assume that this is because you've recently entered the field. However, we visited France recently and looked at the home owned by a couple by the name of Michael and Marguerite Chablon. They told us that you had designed the house. My wife absolutely loves what you did with their home. I, too, am I a fan. If it isn't too much trouble, we'd like you to design a house much like the Chablon residence, but larger. If you accept, we will require you to come to London, as that is where our home is to be built. We will gladly pay your way, lodging, and meals.

Thank you, Sir.

Phillip Connor."

"Erik, surely you won't accept this."

His gaze falls upon me, a familiar look in his eyes. The very same look he gives when he cannot refuse an offer. "Kiera, I don't know that I can refuse. An opportunity such as this doesn't come every day."

"My love, you have plenty of opportunities here in France. Besides, how can turning this down be any different than any of the others you've turned down."

"The only reason I refused the many others was for you...you and Donato. Had it not been for that, I would have gladly gone to Le Havre."

"And why is that such a terrible thing? Is giving up your passion for your family wrong to do?"

"At times. Have you forgotten that architecture is one of the few things that kept me going when Christine left and you were angry with me?" He drops the papers and comes face-to-face with me.

"How dare mention that wretch!" Anger swells within me. "Tell me, Erik, are we less important than building a house? If so, then what am I really to you? A prostitute perhaps? A common whore you just deciced to marry to legalize what was illegal? Donato, I suppose, was just a setback, then. Is that right?"

"You'll never understand." He turns and walks away.

"Maman? Does...does Papa really think I was just a setback?" Donato looks up at me, tears in his eyes

"Of course not, my dearest." I lift him from the ground, sitting him on my hip. "I love you, and so does he. It's just that his temper gets the best of him sometimes." I kiss his cheek. "It's time for dinner. We'll get something in your stomach and afterward, I'll give you a bath. Then it's off to bed."

Later in the evening, about eleven o'clock, long after Donato falls asleep, I lie wide-awake thinking about how long it's been since Erik and I had a silly argument that ended like this...me in one room and him in another. I think about the immaturity of the entire situation; we aren't teenagers anymore...fighting for the other's love. We are adults...with a son; foolish spats should be in the past. Though, Madam Mardon always said that the occassional fight was a normal part of even the most perfect marriage.

As I ponder, I do not take notice that the mattress has sunken with the addition of weight. "Kiera," a voice whispers in my ear. My company is close enough that I can feel the warmth of their breath on my skin. "Ma cherie, are you still awake?"

_Erik..._ I do not respond immediately, but rather, I wait until he gets up and starts towards the door. "I never forbid you from joining me. I cannot keep you from the warmth of your own bed."

"I assumed that..."

"Why do we fight, Erik? Why can't you and I go on forever without having one of these meaningless arguments over such trivial matters? Have we fallen from the level of love we once held for each other? What is it that makes us do this? I don't understand."

"I hardly think it is a matter of love, my dear. I still love you...and Donato. If anything at all, I'd say it's stress." He sits beside me, stroking my hair. "You still look as beautiful as you did the day we first met. Do you remember?"

"How can I forget? You were wearing you're normal black, while I was in that silly costume the sultaness made me wear."

"I never said so, but I prefered seeing you in it. You had an absolutely perfect body."

"Then I don't have a perfect body now?" I tease.

He laughs. "To me you still do."

"You don't have to lie, love. I know that Donato's conception took a tole on me." Sitting up, I move my hands up to his chest and slowly unbutton his shirt. "Back then I didn't want to see you in anything but black. Now, however, I prefer you without it...without clothes period. That ignorant ballet rat from the opera doesn't realize what she walked away from." Tossing his shirt aside, I trace the scars on his chest from where he took so many beatings. "Do they still hurt?"

"No." He removes my hand from the scarring. "You're the only woman allowed to see the remnants of my past." He brings his lips to mine, his tongue invading my mouth for a deeper kiss.

The first few rays of light streaming through the crack in the bedroom curtains wakes me. I find myself lying in Erik's arms, my head resting on his exposed chest. His hands form a lock around me, detaining me in the possessive manner he held me in once we fell asleep. I kiss his chest softly and run my hand over his abdomen.

He stirs slightly, a smile on his lips as he takes my hand away from his skin. "That tickles." His eyes open slightly, his sleepy gaze settling on me. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Bonjour." I scoot closer to him, pushing myself upward so that my face is level with his. "You can go to London if it is what you wish. I have no right to stop you."

"Merci, cherie." His lips find mine again. "I'll come home whenever I can."

"I know you will."

"Donato's old enough now, why don't you both come with me? It could be a vacation for us all when I'm not working. Then I wouldn't have to come all the way back to France to see you; you'd be in the same town."

I sigh. "What of your mother, Erik? She's not doing too well; that cold is getting the best of her. I don't want to leave; she may need me."

"She has Lynette, Grace, and Danielle for that."

"Mon maestro, that is not the only reason. I am fearful of going to another country...especially England. I'm afraid to be treated as I was when I was a child."

"Kiera..."

"Just write to me often and come home when you can." I wriggle out of his arms and grab my housecoat, putting it on quickly, careful not to trap my hair. "The last thing we want is Donato to see us like this. He'll be up soon, if he isn't already."

"Very well." He crawls from bed lazily and pulls on his trousers. "That boy is still probably asleep." Moving to the closet, he opens the door, and gasps, stumbling back. "What the devil?"

"What is it?" I dash to his side. I begin to laugh at what I find. Donato has sprang out of the closet and scared his father. "And I thought it impossible to frighten you, Erik."

"Son, why in the world were you in the closet?"

"To surprise you, and to say that I forgive you for yesterday. I know you love me, Papa." He hugs his father tightly.

"I'm glad of that, because I didn't mean a word of it." Erik returns his son's loving gesture.


	20. Chapter 19

_Kiera_

A month has passed since the letter from Phillip Connor arrived, and Erik is prepared to board the train that will take him to the English Channel, where he'll cross on a ship carrying tourists back and forth between France and England. Donato and I are waiting with him outside the train station. We've given him words of encouragement and told him endlessly how much we love him.

The whistle of the slowing train as it pulls up to the platform calls us to our feet. I wrap my arms around Erik's neck and kiss him full on the lips for what will surely be the last time for many months. "Au revoir, mon maestro. Please, be safe. I love you so much. Promise to write to us every chance you get?"

"I promise." He holds me tightly and continues, "I miss you already. Take care of yourself while I'm gone. I love you." He kneels before Donato and puts his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Watch out for your mother, my son, and do what she asks you. Be good."

"Papa!" Donato embraces Erik and kisses his cheek. "I'll try, Papa. I love you."

"And I love you. Now, I must go. Farewell, my dearest loves." Erik turns and boards the large train, looking back several times before he reaches his seat where he opens the window and calls, "I love you both more than life itself. Au revoir." The train starts to move, taking him with it.

Donato hugs me as Erik disappears into the distance, leaving us alone in Paris. "It's all right, my son. He will come back to see us soon." Tears are in my eyes as I speak. "Come. We should be getting home." I lead him to where Persephone and Caesar are waiting. "Are you going to ride Caesar or Persephone?"

"I'll ride Caesar; I can pretend Papa is with me." He climbs onto Caesar's back and nudges him to go with Persephone and I a short distance behind.

When we finally arrive home, the house seems utterly empty. Without Erik, the regular flow of music from the music room is absent, his side of our bed is empty, the other half of my soul is missing...part of my little family is gone. We find Ariella and Nikolas waiting with their two-year-old daughter, Carmen. Little Carmen immediately hugs Donato and me. "Hello, Madam Kiera."

"Good day, Carmen. How are you, little one?" I pat her head, making her blonde locks bounce slightly.

"I'm fine. Merci." She curtsies and then hurries to Donato.

"Ariela...Nikolas...I'm glad you are here. It's nice to see familiar faces. How are you?" I hug each of them.

"Wonderful, but we know that you must be feeling rather badly without Erik here. How are you holding up?"

"Barely. I miss him more than anything after only an hour." I sigh. "Come inside." I offer them both tea as Donato and Carmen play in the floor. "I fear for his life."

"He'll be fine, Kiera. He survived living in a gypsy fair as a sideshow attraction, taking daily beatings. He's lived under an opera house in the bottom cellar where only rats dare to venture," Ariella says, sipping her tea.

"Ariella, I realize you are trying to make me feel better, but he is in London, not Paris. The English are much more judgemental than any Frenchmen." I sit down in a chair and cradle my head in my hands.

"She does have a good point, darling," Nikolas adds, watching Carmen and Donato as they grow more enthused in a book Donato is reading aloud to her.

"I'll agree; they are harsh, but Erik has never let what other people think stop him before. Calm down and wait for his first letter. After you start recieving letters from him on a regular basis, you won't feel as bad."

"I'd rather have him here...at home...where he belongs."

"We all would, but you cannot fence him in. He's a man, for goodness sake; you can't hold him back."

"I know. A mind like his should be free to think. Thank you for letting me talk to you. Tell me, how is Anna enjoying school?" I inquire.

"She loves it and is one of the brightest in her class."

In about a week, a letter arrives from Erik. It reads:

My dearest Kiera,

London is not as you feared. Not once have I been criticized or recieved the usual horrified stare I got in France. The people are very nice, and the Connor's are wonderful...quite thankful for my help. I miss you and Donato terribly, though. I wish I could see you, and I wish you could see the things I see here. I pray this letter finds you both well.

All my love,

Erik

"Papa's all right, then?" Donato looks to me with concerned eyes.

"Yes," I reply, folding the paper and putting it away in the drawer of my nightstand. "Off to bed with you. It's very late and way past your bedtime."

He slides off the bed and hurries to his room. "Aren't you going to tuck me in, Maman?" he calls as I walk into his room.

"Don't I always?" I pull the covers over him and kiss his cheek. "Sleep well, my son." Returning to my own room, I crawl into bed heavy-hearted, longing for Erik's company. Several times during the night, I wake alarmed by the emptiness of the bed, but remember Erik is gone to London.

Three months pass slowly, Erik's letters arrive daily now; I read each carefully to myself and Donato and put them in the drawer with the others. Erik tells me everything that happens in London, the details of how the house is coming along, and how much more he likes England than France. He says that the longer he stays, the more he considers finding a nice house in the country to bring us to so we can enjoy the "splenderous sights" he has. I write back, of course, refusing to move there; France is my home. He argues that there are better schools and more oppertunities for Donato, but I counter with the fact that we have no close family there.

Lately, I've found myself feeling rather ill in the mornings. Donato has taken notice to my discomfort. "Are you feeling well, Maman?"

"I'm fine. Run along." I lie to him. I'm quite certain of the cause of my sickness. Since the last time Erik and I made love, my cycle has stopped and the morning sickness set in. I don't want to accept that I'm pregnant again, but I must. When Madam Sandria comes to visit, I confront her about my situation. "Do you think it likely, Madam?"

"It's a great possibility, Kiera. You're still very young." At my strange expression, she continues, "Go behind the screen and take off your dress. I'll see if you're stomach has grown yet."

I do as I'm told and remove my dress, but leave on my undergarments. Madam inspects me thoroughly, looking at me from several angles. She puts her hand on my lower abdomen and smiles. "There's no doubt about it; you're expecting, Kiera. I'd say you're about four months along."

"Oh, no." I move my hand to my mouth and close my eyes. "Why now?"

"What do you mean, Kiera? You should be excited, dear; a child is a gift." She puts her arms around my shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I said I wasn't going to do anything to make Erik have to return from London. I can't write to him about this; he'll feel it his obligation to come home. I'll just have to deal with it on my own." I sigh heavily, putting my dress back on.

"You can't endure by yourself, child; you're going to have to write to him. I can't always be there...not with the inn doing such good business, and Donato is just a boy," she explains. "Please, Kiera, for your sake and the baby's, send word to Erik."

"What if he doesn't believe me? He knows I'd rather have him home. He'll think it's just a device to get him away from his work."

"It's either that or the possibility of death." She walks to the door. "You're better off safe than sorry, but it's your choice."

"I know." I follow her downstairs where Donato is playing his violin. "Should I tell Donato yet?"

"You might as well, but as smart as he is, he'll figure it out one way or another."

"Very well. Donato, my son..." I sit down and take a deep breath. "I have a bit of news that will alter things here quite a bit." I motion for him to come to me. "I'm..." Looking to Madam for encouragement, I receive a reassuring smile and nod. "I'm going to have a baby, which means you'll have a younger brother or sister."

"Oh. Is that the reason why you were feeling bad in the mornings?"

"Yes. I hope you aren't angry about all of this. I don't want to make you feel less loved, as many children feel when their mother has another child," I say, pushing his hair out of his face.

"No, Maman." He hugs me. "I can't wait to be an older brother. I bet Papa will be excited." He smiles and goes back to playing his violin.

"I hope he is." I speak more to myself than anyone else. "Why don't you play one of your new pieces for Grandma, my sweet?"

"Yes, Maman." He begins to play a lively tune that reminds me of the vibrant masquerade party at the inn more than five years ago...the same night Erik proposed and Nadir died. When he finishes, he bows as Madam claps and cheers.

"Maman? Are you all right? You usually clap when I finish a piece." He puts his violin down and takes my hand. "Maman?"

"I'm fine. I was just thinking about your father. That was wonderful, though; well done, love." I kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry for not seeming as enthused as I usually am; I have a lot on my mind right now. Please understand."

"I do, Maman. I promise I won't cause trouble for you. I'll do everything you say."

"You do that already, but continue to follow directions. I couldn't ask for a better son."


	21. Chapter 20

_Kiera_

As the weeks pass, my stomach grows larger with the developing child. The morning sickness has at last passed, leaving me in a much better mood in the mornings. As promised, Donato causes me no trouble. Everything I ask of him is done with no questions asked.

"Maman!" Donato calls, entering the den. "There's a letter from Papa." He hands the paper to me and huddles at my side, waiting for me to read it aloud to him. "I hope Papa is all right."

"As do I." I open the letter, glancing over it briefly. "Are you ready for me to read it?"

His attention is immediately on me, his gaze settling on my face. "Yes, Maman."

I begin:

"My dearest Kiera and Donato,

Little has changed in London. It seems the only excitement is watching the slow erection of the Connor's home. I'm growing bored, though; the rain has begun to fall, slowing, even postponing, construction. At this rate, it will be much longer than I first perceived. The workers are fast and dedicated, but God refuses to permit work to further. I hope things aren't as gloomy at home.

Time passes so slowly, my dears. All I do is stand in the rain on the hotel room's balcony and look to the South, to France, wondering if you are looking to the North with the sun shining on your faces. I often wonder why I wanted so badly to leave you two for this dreary place. I've thought about coming home for a while, giving England time to dry out, but I know blue skies are to come; I will not give up so easily. As badly as I miss you, I have vowed to complete this structure.

But enough about this place and my petty complaints; I'd rather ask how the two of you are. Is Donato being well-behaved? Are you both well? What does the garden look like? The roses should be in full bloom and at their prime. I have a request for you, my darling Kiera. Go out to the garden and smell the roses; then, tell me of their sweet scent. Here, I haven't the time to savor such delights. Do this for me, love; it will remind me of you and of the home I miss so terribly.

Alas, my beloved ones, I must end this letter, but before I do...enlcosed within the envelope are two tickets for the north-bound train to the English Channel, two tickets for passage over, and the money for a carriage...as well as the address of the hotel I've been staying in. Please, come visit me since I cannot come visit you. Besides, I've abandoned my futile attempts to convince you to move here. I was a fool not to remember the words of the many books on England I've read. The constant dreariness sickens me, and there are very few quiet places to raise a family. France is good enough for me.

I love you and eagerly await your arrival. Until then, I am...

Eternally yours,

Erik."

"Are we going to London, Maman?" Donato looks up at me, pleading with his eyes. "I want to go see Papa."

"Donato, I don't think it's the wisest thing to do. With the baby on the way, we can't afford to take any chances. Believe me, I want to see him, too, but..."

"Maman, Papa will be disappointed and won't understand," he argues.

"There isn't anything not to understand; you're father knows that it's not intelligent for a woman who's expecting to travel such a distance."

"Papa doesn't know about the baby, though. You never wrote to him." He folds his arms across his chest and glares at me, waiting for my return comment.

"And just how is it you know I didn't write to him?"

"Papa would have mentioned something about it in his letters." A smile of victory crosses his lips, his eyes gleaming brightly at my defeat.

I'm silenced, of course; my own son thinks as fast as I do. Such a smart boy. Sighing, I say, "You have made your point, and you are correct. Get your suitcase from the closet and pack two weeks' worth of clothes. I'll come to check on you when I'm finished. Run along; we leave tomorrow. And don't get too cocky about your victory. It will come back to haunt you if you do."

"Yes, Maman." He hugs me and races up the stairs to fill his suitcase in preparation for our long journey.

Once I've stuffed my suitcase, I venture to my son's room to see how things are coming with his packing. Curled in a ball, he is fast asleep, his suitcase lying open on the floor next to his bed. A smile crosses my lips as I straighten him out and pull the covers over him. After kissing his cheek softly, I sort through his clothes, adding a few things he forgot. Closing the case securely, I leave the room and return to mine and Erik's. As I lay quietly, my hands resting on my stomach, trying to find sleep, a gentle kick makes me laugh

With the dawn, Donato and I set out for London, boarding the north-bound train as instructed. Donato is greatly enthused by the vehicles' structure and sheer vastness. Instead of finding contentment within our quarters, he wants to explore. He pesters me regularly about walking about, having forgotten his promise. When I refuse, he lowers his head and returns to his seat, looking away from me. It breaks my heart to see him upset. He rarely asks for things like this. "Donato, I'm sorry, but I'd rather not let you run off in this place. I have faith that you could find your way back, but someone could kidnap you. If you were with an adult, I might reconsider, but you would be alone. I don't feel up to walking with you. My sweet, please try to understand my perspective of the situation. It is my duty as your mother to protect you. Perhaps later, when I feel a bit better, we'll stroll about this car, but until then, I want you to stay here and occupy your mind with something besides the train."

"Pardon me. Madam Mardon?" The conductor steps in after knocking. "I was wondering if your son would like a tour of the train. Your husband said that the boy is full of wonderment for new things. If it's all right with you, I'd like to show him about personally; it will give you time to yourself."

"My husband?" I'm a bit surprised; normally Erik doesn't speak to many people on trips. "I'm certain Donato would like that a lot. However, I'm not sure if he should be running about...even with you. It's not a question of your ability to control him; it is the fact that he has the tendency to wander off."

"Please, Madam, it would be my honor. I believe I can keep track of him; besides, there aren't many places for him to go. I assure you he is in good hands." He looks to Donato. "You won't run away from me at any given moment, will you, lad?"

"No, Monsieur." Donato moves to stand in front of me. "Please, Maman. I really want to go. I won't cause any trouble...I promise."

"And what of your other promise to me? You haven't kept it the last few hours. You said you would behave, but since we got on board the train, you have done nothing but pester me to the point I felt like yelling at you. I haven't done such a thing yet, but you, young man, are pushing my limit." I give him a stern glare. "I know you think I'm cross with you, but I'm not." I lift his chin with the tips of my fingers. "Restate your first promise to me with complete sincerity, and then I'll let you leave."

"I'm sorry, Maman. I didn't realize I was such a pest to you. I promise I will cause absolutely no trouble for you." He hugs me warmly, kissing my cheek. "May I go with the conductor to see the rest of the train?"

"As long as you are well-behaved." I pat his head and look to the conductor. "I'd like him back within two hours, please, Monsieur, and thank you." I see them out the door.

"Of course, Madam Mardon. I hope that by getting him out of your hair, you will feel better." He takes Donato's hand and leads him down the aisle, talking slowly so that Donato can understand him.

The two of them return within an hour and forty-five minutes. "Here he is, Madam; back within two hours, as promised."

"Merci. I hope he was no trouble. I know he tends to be a handful when he's enthused by something of interest." I put my hands on Donato's shoulders where he stand infront of me.

"He was no trouble at all. His questions were very good, and he lingered on my every word, soaking it in like a sponge takes in water," he explains.

"He is his father's son; they're just alike...in looks and mind."

"I agree. I hope that you got to feeling better while we were gone?"

"Yes. It seems a bit of peace and quiet was all I needed. Thank you again, Monsieur."

"My pleasure, Madam. Enjoy the remainder of your trip, and if you should need anything, do not hesitate to come to me. Good night." He closes the door with a smile, leaving Donato and I alone.

"It's time to eat, darling. Then you need to wash up and get in bed." I usher him to where a covered dish is waiting for him.

The journey across the English Channel is a rather boring one. Donato, though he clearly wants to explore the ship, remembers his promise and does not ask to go see the expanses of the vessel. The remaining journey to the hotel isn't as dull, but Donato still lacks his usual energy. Once we arrive outside the hotel, his enthusiam immediatly returns as he exclaims, "We're here, Maman! We're here!"

"Welcome to the Royal London Hotel, Madam. Can I be of any service to you?" a cheery desk clerk asks.

"My husband has been staying here for several months. He invited us to come visit him while he works on a construction project."

"Then you must be Mrs. Kiera Mardon and Donato Mardon?" He picks up our suitcases. "I'll show you to Mr. Mardon's room. He said you would probably be visiting. As far as how I know who you are and your names...I saw a picture of you. Mr. Mardon asked for my assistance one day, and I saw your picture in his room. He noticed my stare and told me who you were. He speaks quite highly of you. Your son favors Mr. Mardon greatly." The clerk leads us up two flights of stairs to Erik's room. "There are two beds, a large bathroom, and if you look out from the balcony, you can see all of London." He sits our bags down. "I'll return with a meal for you both in a bit, if you like. I'm sure you're hungry, but before I go, is there anything else you'd like?"

"Do you know what time my husband tends to return in the evenings? I'd like to know how much time we have until he comes."

"It's normally about six o'clock, Ma'am. You have nearly three hours, as it is just three."

"Thank you, Sir. Would you mind if the meal is very light? I'd rather not ruin dinner."

"Not at all, Ma'am. I'll return with some bread, fruit, and water. If that is all, I will take my leave and return shortly."

"That is all. Thank you very much." I begin to unpack and put things in drawers. "I want you to go take a bath, Donato. We don't want you to be filthy when your father returns." I send him to the bathroom.

The clerk returns within thirty minutes with a tray of bread, assorted fruits, two drinking glasses, and a pitcher of water. "Here you are, Ma'am. I hope this is sufficient. Anything else?"

"No, Sir. Thank you, again." I give him permission to leave.

"He's very nice, Maman." Donato comes out of the bathroom, his hair still damp. "Can I have a slice of bread?"

"Of course. That's why it is here." I hand him a piece and a glass of water. "Don't make a mess."

After a few more hours, the door opens and Erik steps in, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Kiera! Donato!" he exclaims, stumbling back. "I figured you were coming, but I didn't expect you this soon!" He stoops down, embracing Donato in a fatherly hug. "You've grown since I left, my son. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Papa. We've missed you a great deal since you left." Donato pulls away and smiles.

"I'm glad to hear it. I've missed the two of you as well." He moves toward me, his arms outstretched. "My favorite lady." He embraces me warmly, but pulls away, staring into my eyes in a strange manner. "Kiera..." He moves his hands to my stomach without taking his gaze from my face. "So it is true?"

"I had a surprise for you." I rest my hand on his cheek as he continues to look at me with bewilderment. "But it appears someone has already informed you. How did you know?"

He glances down to his hands. "I knew she was telling the truth. How far along are you?"

"I'm about six and a half months. Now, who told you? There are few people who know in France. How could word have gotten to London?"

"Mother. She said in her letter that she wasn't sure if you'd tell me, as you were very worried when you found out. Why wouldn't you tell me you were pregnant?" He takes my shoulders and stares into my eyes, lowering me onto the bed. "Were you afraid of me, cherie?"

With a deep breath, I begin my explanation, "I said that I would not do anything to keep you from London. I was scared that you might not believe me and be angry...especially after the argument we had when you first recieved the letter from the Connors. I wanted to tell you, but..." I sigh. "Please, forgive me, darling. I just wanted you to be happy."

"Oh, Kiera." He draws me closer to him, kissing my forehead lightly. "As a husband and father, it is my obligation to come home when I am needed...especially at times such as this. My family comes before my work...no matter what...even if my temper does get the best of me at times."

"It amazes me that you can spit fire one moment and the next, be the most loving man on the earth. However, I love you for who you are and thank you for understanding when I need you to." I lean against him, savouring his warmth and the mere feeling of being back in his arms. "Are you excited, then?"

"Yes." Our lips meet briefly, before he turns to Donato. "Have you been good for your mother?"

When Donato is silent, I answer, "For the most part. He was a bit of a nuisance while we were on the train. He was bored and wanted to see the extent of the vehicle. I didn't feel well part of the time and wasn't up to walking about with him. Luckily, the conductor, a friend of yours apparently, came in and showed him around. Other than that one incident, he's been very well-behaved."

"Good." Erik smiles at the boy, reassuring him that he is in no trouble. "How was the entire trip?"

"Excellent. We were rather bored in the carriage and boat, but it wasn't unbearable. How is the Connor's house coming along?" I inquire.

"I'll be able to leave soon. Perhaps within the week. The weather controls the speed of construction. If it stays nice, it won't be much longer. You see, dalring, they only want me to oversee the exterior; they have someone else to tend to the interior. Once the roof is on, I shall return to France, and that is what is being worked on right now."

"That's wonderful news. We might be able to return together."

"It's a possibility. Now, tomorrow, I want you to come to dinner at the Connors'. They insisted that I bring you and Donato the day after you arrived. I will let them know when they come to the site in the morning, so they can prepare. I assure you, my dears, you will find them to be a very entertaining bunch."

"We'll be waiting." I kiss his cheek and let him bury his face in my hair.


	22. Chapter 21

_Erik_

The clock chimes midnight as I lay awake in bed. Kiera seems to have no trouble sleeping peacefully at my side; if she knew I were wide-awake, she'd probably be sitting up, trying to ease my mind enough for me to succumb to the dark slumber. Though I long to see her black eyes staring back into my own, I do not bother her. I am far too aware that she will need all the energy possible for the time she delivers. I've never denied her rest before, and I will not now.

Donato sleeps silently in the bed beside ours. I watch in awe as his small chest moves up and down with every breath. I cannot believe how fast he has grown. His intellect will be that to rival mine when he is a bit older. An inquisitive youngster, it seems as though he is always looking for something to learn about. I did not have to spend more than a day teaching him to do anything. He mastered the alphabet in an hour and writing in two. His grammer is near to perfection, and his vocabulary expands far past his years. Math has been his worst subject; he does not enjoy lessons in mathematics. He recognizes numbers and can count easily; it's just that he is not a fan of any operation. A book worm like his mother, he loves to read extensive novels that no four-year-old would dare attempt. Most of the books his mother and I read, with exception of those that he is too young for, he picks up also. Despite his great skill in all other subjects, the arts are most certainly his strong point. He reads music like he reads books, and plays his violin better than any mediocre violinist. There is no question that he is a great musician; his talent will take him far in the world...as far as I could've gone had I not been stricken with a misshapen visage. He will be loved by people of all nationalities. This is what I want for him.

"Has it really been more than four years?" I whisper to myself. "Have I really been a father that long?"

"Indeed, it has." Kiera's gentle voice draws my gaze from Donato to her. "You find it unbelieveable, too? He's grown so quickly. I can remember vividly his first composition, the first time he called you 'Papa' and me 'Maman'. I recall when he started walking on his first birthday as we talked with your sisters. I can see the day of his birth as clear and detailed as though it were just yesterday." She sighs and looks away from the sleeping boy, her gaze resting on me. "And to think that just six years ago, neither of us expected to have a son...let alone another on the way. The years have gone so quickly."

"Yes. I sometimes wish we could relive the happiest times. You know...the times when Christine wasn't causing us constant grief." I run my hand down her arm and smile. "Don't you?"

"I'll be reliving part of them soon enough." She smiles and puts a hand on her stomach. "But it will all be worth it...another child to raise with the love for music. Now Donato will have a playmate...once the baby is older, of course."

"I only hope he understands that we will have less time to spend with him." I kiss her cheek. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I know. What troubles you, my love? You always have something on your mind when you can't sleep. Tell me, maestro." She takes both my hands. "I don't like for you not to sleep."

"I can't help feeling that this birth will not be the same as Donato's. I fear something will go terribly wrong."

"Erik, you were fearful when Donato was born; it only makes sense for you to feel the same way now. You shouldn't deprive yourself of sleep over these things. Save that for when the time is nigh." She looks into my eyes. "That's not the only reason you're awake, is it? Something else is bothering you, mon chere."

"I'm just afraid for your life."

"What will it take to sooth you, darling? Please, tell me there's something I can do to help you get to sleep." She stares at me with concern in her dark eyes.

"Sing something, my dear. I haven't heard you're lovely singing voice in far too long. Besides, you'll be back to singing lullabies soon; you might as well get back into practice."

"True." She sighs. "Only briefly." She begins an old Persian tune that was often played in court sessions, but only in the sultaness' presence. Finishing, she smiles and says, "I hope that suffices. Now, let us sleep. You have to go back to the site tomorrow, and we'll all have dinner with the Connors. It would look rather silly to come in exhausted. Go to sleep, love."

I lay back against the pillow and admire her lovely face, though it is consumed by shadows. "I'll try. Goodnight, my dear."

"Goodnight" .She presses her lips to mine for a brief moment before settling down and drifting to sleep.

Donato is up at dawn, bouncing on the edge of the bed to wake his mother and I. "Maman! Papa! Get up!" he exclaims, pulling the covers away from our bodies. Then, he opens the balcony door and opens the window curtains.

"Donato..." Kiera moans, sitting up slowly, shielding her eyes from the light now pouring into the room through the open balony door. "Son, it's far too early to be up. Why aren't you in bed?"

"I want to go with Papa...to the site. Please, Papa, can I come?" The boy stands in front of me, his eyes swimming with expectation. "I can help you, Papa."

"It's up to your mother...not me. You'll have to ask her." I direct him to Kiera who is stifling a yawn.

"Donato, I'd prefer you stay here. You could get hurt, and that's the last thing we want or need. I know your father will look after you, but I really don't need to be worrying over you. I think you're better off staying with me." Kiera swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, stretching her arms. "My sweet, it's for your own good. You are far too young to be running around a construction site." She kisses his cheek. "Besides, I thought we could tour the city a bit...perhaps visit Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the British Museum. What do you say? Surely that will bring you more entertainment than watching a bunch of workers put shingles on a roof."

He thinks for a moment before answering, "That sounds like fun. I'll go with you, Maman. I hope you get the roof done today, Papa."

"Very well." I change from my pajamas to my day clothes. "Goodbye, m'ange." I kiss Kiera on the lips quickly, hug Donato, and set out for the site. When I arrive, Phillip Connor is waiting for me. "Good morning, Mr. Connor."

"Good morning, Mr. Mardon. Tell me, when can we expect you and your family to come to dinner?" He shakes my hand warmly.

"Tonight, if you'll have us. They arrived yesterday afternoon."

"Excellent. I'll make sure there's plenty to eat. Say, did you discover whether or not it was true? The letter you say you recieved with news of your wife?" His questions are a bit timid.

"They were. My wife is six and a half months pregnant...or about there. I just can't believe Kiera wouldn't tell me."

"Women can be very confusing creatures; you'll get used to it. Well, my congratulations and best wishes. Before I go, how much longer to you think it will be before the roof is done?"

"We might finish today, if the weather permits," I reply.

"Good. You can go be with your family and enjoy the wait for the newcomer. Well, I must be going. I shall see you tonight, and don't dress up. I doubt your wife and son brought dress clothes for dinner. Casual wear will be the dress of the evening. Good day, Mr. Mardon." He waves as he mounts his horse; then rides off in the direction of their current estate.

As I'd hoped, the roof is completed within the day, before noon, in fact. After thanking all the workers for their assistance, commitment, and patience (as the weather was almost relentless), I head home to spend time with Kiera and Donato...if they're home from their tour of the city. The ride back is long but a new composition fills my soul as I think of Kiera and the child that will soon arrive. I close my eyes and listen to it until I have returned to my hotel room. Once I have closed the door behind me, I pick up my violin and let the melody flow from the instrument.

Two hands fall on my shoulders, taking me from my music. "I'm glad to see you home early today." Kiera kisses my cheek. "I suppose that means your work at the site is done?"

"Yes." I lean my head back, into her arms. "How did you enjoy London?"

"It was lovely, but it doesn't compare to home." She sits down on the bed. "Donato seemed to enjoy making faces at the guards outside Buckingham Palace."

"Where is Donato?" I sit beside her.

"Showing the maids a dance he learned from some street performers." She laughs for a moment. "He'll probably be up to show you shortly."

Dinner at the Connors' goes fine, with Mrs. Connor fawning over Kiera like a mother would fawn over her daughter. We eat a bountiful meal and chat briefly. Donato performs some of his compositions on the magnificent grand piano in the parlor while Kiera and I sit side-by-side on a small sofa. Lillian marvels at Donato's skill and asks if he gets it from the family. Kiera is quick to answer that his talents come from me. I add that it is also from her. Later, they convince Kiera and me to play a brief tune. The evening draws to a close and my family and I climb back into our carriage for our journey back to the hotel.

"They really were a splendid couple, mon maestro." Kiera takes her cloak off and hangs it over a chair as we enter the hotel room. "Is he still asleep?" She turns to me as I lay Donato in his bed.

"Yes. Poor boy; he isn't used to such long nights and excitement. I think he had a good time; you and I both know how much he enjoys playing for an audience." I put my arm around her as she joins me at the bedside. "You must be tired as well."

"I am." She stifles a yawn and leans her head on my shoulder. "What do you say to sleeping in tomorrow? We've had a full day and a bit of extra sleep sounds wonderful."

"Do you remember everything I did for you while you were expecting Donato?" I guide her to our bed and ease her down onto the mattress. "The massages and such?" Removing one of her shoes, I rub her stocking covered foot. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to do all the things I did then."

"It isn't your fault."

"It feels that way though." I sigh, trying to feel less guilty. "I wish you would have told me about the baby, Kiera. It isn't good that you've been doing everything around the house while pregnant." I switch to her other foot.

"It was nothing, Erik. Now, if I was further along, it might have been. Come, darling, let's get some sleep." She pulls away and hurries to change in the bathroom. When she returns, she is wearing a long-sleeved, cotton gown that comes as far as her ankles. "Aren't you going to change, maestro?"

"But of course." Having changed out of my day clothes, I lie down and sleep peacefully next to her.


	23. Chapter 22

**I apologize for the uber short chapter. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.**

_Erik_

In the early morning hours about two months after we've returned from the Connors', a loud pounding at the door startles us awake. I crawl from bed and hurry down the stairs to the door, opening it to see Meg. Her face is solemn and pale. Something is terribly wrong. "Meg, what brings you here at such unsightly hours? Is everything all right?" She doesn't speak but lowers her gaze to the ground. As it begins to rain, I can see the tears in her eyes. "Come inside, out of the rain, Madam, before you catch your death." I take her arm and pull her into the warmth of mine and Kiera's home. She takes the seat I offer to her and continues to stare at the ground. "I'll start a fire and bring you a blanket and some hot tea." Slipping to the fire place, I start a nice blaze, put on some tea, and wrap a blanket around the young Madam's shoulders. Once her drink is ready, I hand it to her, studying her features as she drinks it slowly.

"Erik." Kiera comes into the room, glancing at Meg as she nears me. "Why on earth is Meg here so early? She should be home with Michael and James." Stealing another look at Madam Chablon. "She looks horrible...like she's just lost the person most dear and near to her."

"Erik...Kiera...I'm sorry for waking you this early, but I felt it my obligation to inform you of the tragic news I have just recieved." She takes a deep breath. "My mother passed away in the night. She fell ill a few weeks ago and only worsened in condition. The doctors said she wouldn't last very long, but I held on to hope...useless hope. She thought of you as a son, Erik. You and I are the only true family she had left. Christine is mad with jealousy for Kiera and never leaves the de Changey mansion. I saw no point in telling her."

"Oh, no." Kiera gasps, covering her mouth with one hand. "Meg, I'm sorry." She takes a seat beside the blonde-haired, former ballet dancer. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I think so, but I think the question is: are you going to be all right? Kiera, I didn't want this to happen." Meg finally releases her tears, crying into Kiera's shoulder. "I was hoping that it wouldn't happen until after your baby was born, but..."

"Meg...Meg...calm down. It's fine. Please, you had no control over this. Don't blame yourself." Kiera tries to calm her with a soothing voice and comforting words.

"Kiera, I just can't believe she's gone! She's always been there for me! Always! And now, she's gone forever! How will I tell James? He loves her so! I don't know what I'm going to do!" Meg is wailing by now, uncapping her sorrow.

"She's not gone forever; you'll see her again. She's in a better place...a place that you'll rejoin her in when the time has come. This is not the end of the world, Meg. Be strong for James and Michael."

I cannot make myself utter a word, as I am trying to contain my own sadness. I can feel tears welling in my eyes, and I'm trying my best to keep them from falling. My hands are shaking, so I tighten them into fists. Kiera turns to me, tears in her eyes. It is easy to tell that she requires my assistance in soothing Meg. Mouthing my name, she beckons to me for help. "Meg, Kiera's right. Madam is in a far better place."

After an hour, Meg is composed enough to leave. She thanks us both for our condolences and departs, promising to send us the location of the funeral and what time. She mounts her horse and turns away from our home.

"Maman? Papa?" Donato's voice draws our attention to the foot of the stairs once we return to the shelter of our home. "Is Madam Giry dead?" He sits on the bottom step, staring up at us with misty eyes.

Kiera sits down beside him and puts her arm around him, pulling him close to her side. "My son, Madam is in a far better place...Heaven." She kisses the top of his head. "You understand, don't you?" He nods and buries his face into her chest, crying softly. "Hush, now. Dry your tears. Do you think she'd want you to cry over her?"

"No, Maman," he replies, trying to banish his tears.

"Madam Giry would not want you to shed tears of sadness and sorrow for her." I pick him up and wipe away a few tears on his cheeks. "Better now?" He nods again and rests his head against my shoulder. "You need to be getting back to bed."

"Erik, let's all sleep on the sofa tonight," Kiera suggests. "This way we're all here to comfort each other."

I comply and sit down on the sofa, Donato on one side of me, and Kiera on the other. I wrap my arms around them and drift to sleep with my family.

A message arrives from Meg the next morning with the funeral details. It is to be held at the little chapel outside of Paris where Kiera and I were married tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. "I want to go, but I don't think I should, Kiera." I drop the note onto the kitchen table as Donato eats breakfast.

"Why not?" she asks, pouring a cup of water. "Erik, she was like a mother to you."

"But, darling, you're on bedrest and cannot go. What if you go into labor while I'm gone? "

"I'll be fine; besides, Ariela is coming to visit. I'm sure she would not mind staying until you returned," she argues, sipping her water. "Please, Erik, pay your final respects to her, and take Donato along. He needs to tell her his goodbyes, and I believe he made something to give to her." Donato says "yes" and goes back to eating.

"Very well." At last, I agree with her. Why I even bother to try to argue with her, I may never know; she will win either way it goes.


End file.
